


Citrus and Mint

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Outing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 55,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the mid-1970’s, just as the first Wizarding War is heating up, two boys of opposing heritage enter Hogwarts, not knowing the people that they’ll be when they leave. At 11, Daniel Howell is looking toward a future destined by his pure-blooded family, a family eternally entwined with the dark arts. Alternatively, young Phil Lester enters the school with the greatest support system- one he never thinks he’ll lose. When the two wizards’ fates collide, Dan and Phil must both come to terms with their identities, moral, and bubbling attractions.Story takes place throughout the first 6 years of school, but heavily focuses on years 5 and 6.





	1. Phil's POV

I step off of the Hogwarts Express full of excitement. 

I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I wore my robes to the station. I wasn’t the only first year in them, but Martyn poked fun at me the entire way, telling me I was embarrassing him with how I kept trilling over the littlest things. I can’t help it. He’s been in the magical world for an entire year, and the only taste I’ve gotten of it was my short trip to Diagon Alley to get my supplies. Martyn has already gotten to learn spells and buy magical candy (who knew candy could be magic too!) and learn all about dragons and werewolves while I’ve been stuck at home with family dinners and maths. So yeah, I got excited and wore my robes to the station. I even read through my spell books on the train.

I thought I’d feel butterflies as I approached the school, but instead there’s tingles all the way up my spine – tiny little shivers run from the tips of my fingers up through my skull. My body can feel that I’m supposed to be here. I follow the swarm of students off of the train, barely able to see over the hundreds of pointed hats that swim through my field of vision. This is what magic feels like. I grip my wand in my pocket, running my thumb over the ridged wood.

The turrets of the castle soar up higher and higher into the sky as we approach it by boat. I count seven of the gargoyles that Martyn told me to look out for. I can’t be sure if he’s joking, but he said sometimes they throw pebbles down at the first years when they’re bored. 

Our boats hit the shore and the first years in front of me slowly begin their ascent up the hills to the castle. I’m at the back of one of the last boats to dock and as I climb out, I glance down at the sand in front of me. Small, cloudy stones cover the shore of the lake, reflecting the light of the full moon and glowing dully. Inside each of the stones, it looks as though mist swirls. As the boats begin to slink back across the lake, moving as though being pulled by invisible ropes, I bend down, cupping one of the small stones in my hand. They’re cold and smooth. I run my thumb over one gently, and I let out a stifled gasp as a bright purple snail pokes it head from beneath the stone, which I suppose must actually be its shell. I drop the shell back onto the sand, wiping my hand against my robes quickly. The small creatures look as though they’re basking in the moonlight, and despite how cute they are, I have no interest in holding them any longer. Dad told me to be careful of strange magical creatures.

Glancing up back toward where the other first years were just moments before, I can see the last of them entering the castle all the way up the hill. I hadn’t realized they had gone so far from me, and my palms immediately become clammy. What if I miss the entire welcome dinner? Martyn said the first years have to go through a special ceremony, and as I start to climb hazardously up the shore, I can’t help but wonder just what exactly I’ll have to do.

My mind is stuck on images of a pop quiz in front of the entire school, and just as I’m trying to remember some of what I’d skimmed from my course books, my feet meet the slick, dewy grass, sliding out from under me in one clumsy swoop. I tumble backwards down into the sand, my body a mess of limbs as I try to catch myself, but it’s just too late. I feel the wetness of the lake bleed through the back of my robes, and grimy grits of sand stick to my damp hands. It’s a miracle I didn’t break my wand, which I can feel jammed sharply under one of my ribs. I stand up, yanking a persistent purple snail from the back of my forearm. Brushing back stray hairs from my sweaty forehead, I can feel sand trail down my cheek, making a small cut on my cheek smart.

“Geez,” I mumble, trying to regain myself. My head spins a bit, and I hold my ground, waiting until the multiples fade from my vision and just one lone castle remains. This time, as I mount the path to the grassy hills, I take carefully placed steps, deciding I should try my best not to worry until I get to more level ground. 

By the time I finally reach the massive doors to the entrance hall of the castle, my enthusiasm for this day is waning. If ever there was a time I’d like to arrive to an event looking my best, it would be now, and I’m painfully aware of my sweat- and water-drenched clothes, as well as the welt bubbling under the cut on my face.

I’ve only just reached up for the large iron knocker when the door slams open and a boy with mousy brown hair darts past me, pushing me back to the ground. I watch as he runs, stumbling every few steps, toward a large, angry-looking tree several yards away, “Sorry!” he cries as he races past me, and I catch a glimpse of a scarred face with surprisingly kind eyes. I’m just getting to my feet as three more boys bolt out of the still-open door, two with wild black hair, and the last a plump blonde boy no taller than me, although clearly older.

“Moony!” the only one with glasses calls into the night, not even glancing at me as he sprints across the grass with his friends. I watch them for a second before shaking my head and standing. I enter the castle and quietly tread across the stone floor, the light in the room just in front of me extremely enticing as I shiver in my still-damp robes. As I peek around the doorway into a large, open room, I hear my name being called.

“Philip Lester!”

There’s four long tables laid out across the floor, and at the front, a line of adults (maybe teachers?) sit, watching the affair taking place. The first years are standing in a line, although it’s clear that many of them are missing. Just beside them is a stool with an old, moldy-looking hat. This must have to do with the ceremony that Martyn told me about. Candles are floating across a beautiful ceiling – one that looks just like the sky outside, big full moon and all. It takes everything in me to peel my eyes away from the stunning room and look toward the tall, harsh woman standing at the front.

“Philip Lester?” The woman repeats again, and my eyes snap to hers. She has her black hair tied back so tight that every wrinkle in her face has been pulled taut, and her flashing eyes are anything but inviting. I let the large wooden door close behind me with a distinct thud, and nearly every head turns toward me. I swallow, all too aware of what a mess I am. Taking great, long strides, I speed toward the front of the room, trying to get the woman’s attention.

“Excuse me, ma’am, that’s me!” I call, my face pink. I stumble as I near the front of the room and catch myself with my hands against the stone floor, my face reddening more as I hear snickers from a table next to me. I glance over at the students there, all dressed in green ties. I catch one boy’s gaze and I will the prickling in my eyes to stop as I look away. There’s no way I’ll cry in front of all of these people; it’s bad enough that I have to run in late, looking like this. I stand up slowly and finish my walk to the front, trying to regain my composure. I stop in front of the tall, stern woman and force myself to meet her eyes, which are piercing behind rectangular spectacles.

“I’m Phil Lester, Miss,” I say in a quiet voice.


	2. Dan's POV

I step off of the Hogwarts Express full of dread. 

My suitcase is completely weighing down the left side of my body and I have a mind-numbing headache after the day-long train ride. My mind has not stopped reeling since this morning when I slipped my wand into my bag and reminded myself for the hundredth time that this is it; the moment I’ve been bred and groomed for, the moment where my entire life would become defined by one word, the only label that truly mattered.

My entire family is Slytherin, it’s the one thing that ties us all together and the only reason my parents had children. There is so much pride coursing through my parent’s veins that the mere idea of letting a pure-blooded family of Slytherins die off before their very eyes was absolutely unfathomable. So, they had me and my brother, who was far too young to be here worrying with me, though I don’t think they were every truly fit to have children. My father is a power -hungry Death Eater with nothing but anger and distaste in his heart, and my mother, though once a very bright and optimistic witch, has been dulled-down by the smothering weight that is my father.

And now, here I am; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the sorting hat will be placed on top of my head and scream out one tiny, miniscule word that can make or break my entire world. If, Merlin forbid, it dictates that I am something other than what my family believes I should be, well…I suppose I won’t be going home for holiday.

It’s strange, though, as much as I know what I am needed to be, something inside me screams for the chance to be different from those who raised me. This can be my chance to truly be an individual, one who decides for themselves who they want to be and what they want to do. I can forge my own path, ignoring the one engraved in stone for me the minute I was born, and say fuck you to anyone who tries to stop me.

I laugh. Dreams are for sleeping.

Before I know it, I am on the boats coasting up the ink-black lake towards the castle. There’s fog sitting on top of the water, like it’s waiting for an invitation to enter the gates. Most of the people in my boat seem just as nervous as I feel, their hands folded in their laps or their eyes looking downward. Some of them have goofy smiles spread across their faces, casting their eyes in every direction they’re able to look, poking their friends in the sides and pointing left and right. I wonder what it must feel like to be excited over something so defining.

As the boat reaches the shore of the castle, I am certain I might faint. I stand on the unmoving ground, glaring up at the gate before me. A girl with shoulder length brown hair and small circle glasses comes up beside me, leaning forward a bit to look at me in the face.

“Are you alright?” she asks me, a small smile etching its way across her rosy lips.

“Are you nervous? Or is that just me?”  
“Terrified. But we’ll be okay, come on.” She walks forward and I follow, my heart humming in my chest and my hands sweating.

The inside of the castle is gorgeous, with the highest ceilings I’ve ever been underneath, and lit candlesticks on every wall. The overall hue is a soft yellow, and it’s warm, the way a home should feel. 

We are ushered into a giant dining hall, where there are four long tables filled with chattering students, all wearing their respective house robes.

I can spot the Slytherin table almost immediately, the details of their robes dark green and silver, and they all stare as we walk past them, lining up in a queue. If I stand on my tip-toes I can just barely see a stool at the front of the room, the brown infamous Sorting Hat sat perched on top.

An older woman, one who introduces herself as Professor McGonagall, announces that the sorting will begin after she calls the first name, and that after we are assigned, we are to join our house at their table.

She begins with the letter A, and I reassure myself that I have plenty of time, but before I know it she is calling out my full name and my feet feel as heavy as cinderblocks as I drag myself up to the front to sit down on the stool. The last 3 people to go had all gotten sorted in a matter of seconds, and I cross my fingers that this is over before I can even process it.

McGonagall barely looks twice at me before placing the hat on my head. It’s lighter than I’d imagined, not so constricting, and for a moment I feel like I can breathe.

“Ahh, yes. I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, though there is something more to you, boy. Oh, but I can only pick one. I think I see… Slytherin!” The Sorting Hat shouts into the hall, and I want to shrivel up when the echo bounces off the walls and back into my ears. 

Something rises up into my chest, a mixture of relief and nausea, and I can’t feel my legs as I pick myself up and walk over to the table with the rest of the Slytherins. They cheer for me as I walk past, looking for a seat, when, just over the shouts of congratulations, I hear a voice beckoning me.

“Howell! Over here!”

I turn around and see none other than Severus Snape, a sixth year, looking bored as ever but scooting down a bit to create a space next to him big enough for me to sit. I accept the offer, making myself as comfortable as I can on the long wooden bench.

“Haven’t seen you since last Christmas. How are you?” I ask him, and he barely glances in my direction as he shrugs his shoulders up and down.

“Fine. It’s cool that you’re in Slytherin, your father will be pleased.” 

I nod my head slowly, remembering I’ll have to write my parents to let them know where I was sorted. Snape doesn’t ask me any more questions, not that I expected him to. He was usually a quiet guy, not really offering much in terms of conversation. Every time my parents invited his over for holidays he primarily existed in the shadow of his father. I didn’t mind though; I don’t usually seek out awkward small talk. 

A loud bang pulls me from my head, and I turn to see a raven-haired boy in the massive doorway of the dining hall. Well, he’s extremely late.

“Philip Lester?” McGonagall calls and the boy runs up the aisle next to the Slytherin table, tripping on his way up. My stomach drops in second-hand embarrassment, and Severus snickers next to me. I whip my head around him and give a disapproving look, and he shrugs his stupid shrug, as if asking, “What?”

The other Slytherins at the table laugh as well and I notice the boy has sand and dirt crusted along the bottom of his robes. He’s a red, flustering mess by the time he reaches the stool to be sorted.

He whispers something to McGonagall as she places the hat atop his head, and it almost immediately shouts, “Hufflepuff!”  
The Hufflepuff table roars in congratulations and I can’t help but feel a strange twinge of sadness. Or, perhaps it’s jealousy.

I watch the boy make his way to the table of black and yellow accented robes, adopting a spot next to a freckly girl with blonde hair, and he smiles fondly and begins shaking hands with other first years. I glance around the Slytherin table, everyone minding their own business and talking to only those that they know, and I somehow feel lonelier than I did when I walked in here.

I keep my eyes on the black-haired Philip Lester, thinking of what he’d do if he caught me staring. Maybe he’d wave, offer me a seat at the Hufflepuff table and a bumblebee colored scarf to match. They could welcome me in with open arms, more welcoming than it felt over here with Snickering Snape and a void in my chest. I wonder what it feels like to be him, shoulder to shoulder with two chattering, pink cheeked witches, their voices sweet and optimistic, warmth radiating from their very souls, promising Phil opportunities of friendship and loyalty.

The things I’d do to feel warm right now.


	3. Dan's POV

Needless to say, my parents’ reaction to my sorting was nothing short of ecstatic. When I went home for holiday in December, I was met with a hug from both my mother and father, which happened very rarely. When my father asked to have dinner with me individually, I thought, surely, I had gone mad at Hogwarts and was living in my own personal dream world. It was like I left in August as the runt of the family and came back the alpha male. They told me they were proud of me, and I swear little bricks were closing up the emptiest parts of me. I felt whole.

When I went back to school in January, I tried to focus the best I could on my classes. I didn’t want to let my parents down, especially after the dinner with my father.

“You’ll be such a powerful wizard, Daniel. With you by our sides, our family will surely be one of the most powerful wizarding families of our time,” he had said before placing his hand on my shoulder. 

I studied my ass off, spending hours in the library, far past curfew, trying to get everything right. I wanted everyone to know what I was capable of, so I took every opportunity in class to showcase my skills. If I failed, it was good, because it made me want to show them even more that I was only getting better. Maybe I was being obnoxious, but if I would rather people think I was a show off than go home to my father with nothing to offer him.

Going home for summer was weird because I wasn’t allowed to use magic anyways. I told my father all about what I’d mastered so far, and he seemed satisfied, but there was always more with him.

“You’ll need to pick up the pace a bit, Daniel. There’s something stirring in the Wizarding World, rebellion or war, I can’t say, but we’ll need you on our side.” He’d said.

I asked him what he meant, and he told me I was too young to understand. This struck a chord in me, and I was angry with him for the entirety of summer. I was “too young” to understand, he kept saying, yet he insisted I get better, stronger, in order to stand with them in the face of whatever was coming. I wanted to refuse, but I’m far too weak.

People came ‘round our house all summer, having whispered conversations over tea about “groups” and “the Dark Lord”. My mother would usher me upstairs whenever she caught me peering around the banister, and still, no one would utter a word to me about what was going on. 

This year I seem to have left my brain at home, on the bottom step of the staircase, because I cannot get the conversations out of my head. To make things worse, rumors are swimming throughout the school of powerful families turning against the Ministry for a different leader, and most of them are Slytherin. Students laugh about it, but whenever I catch someone chatting about it in the hall, I feel myself walking faster, my heart speeding up and my hands sweating. Surely, my parents are smarter than that. Surely, my father is playing for the right team.

I’ve taken to studying in empty classrooms during lunch in order to regain focus. It’s the middle of October, so during lunch everyone is usually outside enjoying the crisp Autumn air. I choose a classroom on the third floor. Usually I opt for the first or second floor, but everyone is being particularly rowdy in the hallways today and my brain feels like soup.

I choose a room at random, opening the door a bit to make sure there wasn’t some sort of staff meeting going on. I peek my head inside and see two boys, one tall with dark long hair, and the other a bit shorter with a mess of brown curls and what looks to be scars across his face. The brown-haired boy is sitting on a desk, the taller one standing between his legs, holding his face in his hands. They’re kissing. Or, more like snogging. From the opposite side of the room, I can see the black-haired boy slip his tongue into the other boy’s mouth, his hands trailing up the underneath of his white button up, making the shorter boy whimper. I swallow hard. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be watching this, and yet, I can’t tear my eyes away, can’t will myself to stop listening to the soft moans of the two boys, both far older than me.

When the shorter boy reaches up to undo the buttons on the taller one’s shirt, and whispers, “Off,” I make the extremely quick decision to close the door and run down the hallway, my heart one beat away from exploding, my arms shaking with feelings I can’t explain. I replay the sounds in my head, the grunts and whimpers, the hushed giggles that spoke words of their own, ones like, “We might get caught at any moment, but doesn’t that make this all the more fun?”

My face is beet red when I get to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My breathing is quick, and I can’t stop seeing the soft movements of both the boys’ hands, the undoing of the buttons, what the curly-haired boy must have felt like underneath the taller one’s fingers. Soft and warm, I think. Like sunshine on carpet. I look at my face in the mirror, disgusted.

I know there are boys who like boys, but from the things my father told me growing up, I know I don’t ever want to be one of them.

“They’re soft, you can hardly call them men.” He had said. “No son of mine will fuck blokes. This family is too great for such ridiculousness.”

As I stare at myself in the mirror, I allow my brain to make a pact with my heart. I will not go down this road. I have too much to focus on, too many goals already set, and a father who has no time for fucking around. I have come so far with making him proud, I refuse to let myself go back to being a disappointment.

I decide that if I catch this before it blossoms into something I can no longer control then it’ll fade away completely. I am in charge of my own feelings, and if I don’t want something there, I am perfectly capable of casting it out. No un-welcomed guests. 

By May of my second year I am already looking for a girlfriend. I know she’ll have to be pureblood to please my father and being a Slytherin would just be icing on the cake. It’s weird, ever since I came back from Christmas holiday it’s like girls are throwing themselves at me. They call me things like, “smart” and “handsome” and their fingers always find their way into my curls. I don’t see the point in getting with anyone at the end of the year, but I’ll admit it’s fun to have the attention, and as cocky as I sound, I know it’ll be easy to find someone next year.

Honestly, I don’t care who it is, so long as I never have to think about the soft sounds of boy’s moans or the way it must feel to be underneath one. I don’t care what she looks like, what she’s into and what I have to do to win her, anything for my father to continue giving me smiles in passing. Anything to hear him say, “That’s my son.”


	4. Phil's POV

I think that I should address that things got quite a bit better for me after that first night. Starting at a new school is nerve-racking for anyone, and I certainly didn’t make the best first impression. I was a bit bummed that I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor like Martyn, but I really do like the other Hufflepuffs. They’re all involved in clubs and other activities, and (although I may be biased) I think they’re the easiest lot to get along with. All of the older Hufflepuffs thought my story about falling into the lake was really funny – they even shared some of their own horror stories from their first few years, which made me feel far more welcome.

First year went by in a bit of a blur. A majority of my classes last year were with the Slytherins, which I didn’t mind, although they are a bit standoffish. I think Slytherins get a bad rap – so many of them are bright and kind, and their images tend to get warped by their families. There were whispers just before summer break about some of the Slytherin parents getting wrapped up in dark arts, and now that we’ve returned, they’re even louder. I’m pretty out of the loop during summers because both of my parents are Muggles and Martyn never tells me what he and his friends write about, but I have caught on to some of what’s going on through rumors around school. There’s talk of a powerful wizard who once went to Hogwarts – I can never remember the name, and I suppose it doesn’t matter because people don’t want to say it anyway. This fellow sounds like bad news, but I’m sure the Aurors will get him under control.

Louise says I worry too much about the world outside of Hogwarts, “You’re only twelve, Philip,” she’ll tell me as we walk to class. “Just let the adults worry about all that. They’ll deal with it in time.” I suppose she’s right. Louise is always right. She’s in Hufflepuff with me (thank Merlin), but I’ve always had a hunch that she’d get along just fine with the Ravenclaws. She’s brilliant, and she rarely has to try hard or study. It’s not that I’m dumb, but I definitely don’t get the marks I’d like to get, even with a load of time invested in my work.

This year, I only have two classes with the Slytherins – potions and transfiguration. Both my worst subjects, and both of Louise’s strongpoints. It’d be a blessing, really, if she sat with me in either of those classes. Louise is always sitting with her Slytherin boyfriend, Seb, and his best mate, Daniel. I don’t really have much of an opinion on Seb. He’s a nice enough guy, although it irks me that he steals my only friend away nearly every afternoon. The one that really gets on my nerves though is that Daniel kid. Always top of the class, always first to raise his hand, Daniel seems to get everything he wants without batting an eye. I’m someone who’s up all night with even the simplest homework, whereas he doesn’t even have to try. He can flick his wand and easily turn a mouse into a perfect teaspoon on the first day, while I can spend a week on it and my spoon will still have a tail.

Schoolwork aside, I’d say there’s other things I’m struggling with too. I haven’t managed to make many friends at Hogwarts. Louise is really all I’ve got. And to make matters worse, since I’ve gotten back to school after the summer, everyone’s coupled off. I feel like everywhere I look there’s second years hand-in-hand or snogging in empty classrooms (snogging at twelve years old!). Since this term has started, I’ve really felt lonelier than ever. Louise and Seb started seeing each other just before the summer, and now they’re basically joined at the hip. It’s not all that fun to be the third wheel, so usually when Seb starts hanging around I leave them to it and find a quiet place to study or read. I haven’t got anyone else to spend my time with.

I’ve gotten used to being on my own. I get to be around Louise for meals and most of my classes, and in our free time, I leave her be. On the plus side, it’s helped my marks considerably – without anyone keeping me busy, I have more time than ever to work on school, although I’m still miles behind Daniel and Louise. What I would give to have it so easy that I don’t even have to worry about school.

We’re closing in on our second-year exams now, and I see Louise less than ever. When I do, she’s usually wrapped so tightly around Seb that I can’t imagine how either of them ever catch their breath. I’ve taken to studying outside since the weather has warmed up. It’s nice to be around people – at least that way I can pretend like I’m not by myself. 

There’s a large, droopy-looking tree down by the lake where I like to spend my time in the afternoons. It’s got big, wide branches, so there’s lots of shade, and the breeze that comes across the water in the evening is really nice. Today, it’s sunnier than it’s been in months, and I’m not the only one outside enjoying the fresh air and warmth. There are clusters of first years out on the yard, all clamoring loudly and trying to turn the lazy butterflies into bees (without much success). Some of the fifth and seventh years are on blankets, bent over books with deep furrows between their brows. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are right around the corner, and there’s a certain frantic energy that has consumed the older kids on the grounds.

There’s a crick in my back from sitting against this tree for so long, so I set aside the parchment I’ve been writing on. Sitting up straighter, I feel my back breathe a sigh of relief and I rub my eyes – I’ve been working on this essay for McGonagall for over two hours. I’m considering moving my study session inside when a loud group of boys start to make their way over toward me. They’re tall and broad – sixth year at least – and the one in glasses is playing with a small golden snitch while the reedy black-haired boy runs ahead, his hand locked with the brunette’s. It takes me a moment, but I recognize them. They’re the boys I saw my first night at Hogwarts, the ones who ran out of the Great Hall just as I was making my way in.

I follow the group with my eyes as they walk around to the opposite side of the tree. The tubby blond splashes into the water, drenching the bottom of his robes.

“For Merlin’s sake, Peter, you look a mess,” the one with the snitch calls, messing up his hair so it stands on end. I run my fingers up to my own flat, black hair, trying to do the same, but it doesn’t hold.

“C’mon, Remus,” the other black-haired boy croons at the one he’s holding hands with. “Take a dip with me,” he leans in on the last few words and I see him bite at the other boy’s earlobe, his tongue snaking up his neck. My cheeks heat up quickly and I look away. I feel as though I’m watching something I’m not supposed to see.

The brunette – Remus, I suppose – raises the corners of his mouth in a tight-lipped smile and places a soft hand on the black-haired boy’s chest, “You swim, I’m going to read.” The other boy rolls his eyes before planting a sloppy kiss on Remus’s lips, his hips pressing into the other’s, and I blush deeper still, hastily scrambling for my paper as Remus turns to the tree and sits down, his back against the opposite side of the trunk as me. Electricity hums up my spine; it’s as if I can feel him through the dense bark.

I peer around the tree trunk – the only perks to being in your first three years at Hogwarts is that it makes you virtually invisible. I look at the black-haired boy, who’s shirtless now. He turns toward the tree, locking eyes with Remus, and sticks out his tongue, making Remus laugh and wave. 

My chest aches as I watch them, and I’m not sure why. It’s like lead has pooled into my stomach as Remus looks back toward his book, his cheeks faintly pink and a small smile playing on his lips. I sit back against the trunk heavily, and I realize my eyes are prickling. Whatever they have is really special. I wonder if I’ll ever have the same.

I think about the way their hands were locked, about Remus’s scarred knuckles and the black-haired boy’s scruffy cheeks. I wonder if scruffiness makes kisses feel better, or maybe it hurts? I think I’d like to know. I shake my head a little, my hands curled on the grass by my side. What am I even thinking? I’ve never kissed anyone before, not even a girl, and now I’m looking at Remus’s profile from around the tree and I can’t stop looking at his lips, at the tip of his tongue pressed lightly between his teeth, at the curve of his chin down to the top of his chest, a smooth slope that’s interrupted slightly by his Adam’s apple. 

I bet the other boy likes to kiss him there. 

I know I would.


	5. Phil's POV

The end of second year came as sort of a relief to me. I spent those last few weeks before exams so enthralled by Remus and his boyfriend (who I later discovered was Sirius Black – a gay pureblood, imagine that) that it was borderline unhealthy. I’d watch them together in the great hall, or else out by the lake. Remus would lean his body against Sirius’s lazily, with so much comfort, or else sit on the table during afternoon tea and put little braid’s in Sirius’s hair. It was intriguing to see someone who came off so harsh soften so easily with a touch. I’d watch them from across the great hall, book held out in front of me as Louise babbled aimlessly in my ear. Sirius sat with his shoulders hunched, his face permanently cold and blank, but as soon as Remus would enter the room Sirius’s whole demeanor would change. His eyes would warm, his constantly curled lips would widen in a grin, and he’d unclench his hands to reach out to the other boy. 

It was beautiful, unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and it made me so sad that I could hardly stand it. It was the same sadness I felt when I would see clusters of students – of friends – out together on the lawn. I felt a yearning and an envy, but at the same time, an acceptance for what would never be. Surely, I would never be loved that fiercely and that freely. Better to accept it now than spend the rest of my life longing for something so unattainable.

By the end of the year, I think I’d pretty much accepted the fact that I didn’t like girls. I didn’t want to say the words yet - not to my parents, not to Louise or Martyn, and definitely not to myself. I knew what being gay was. I’d seen gay men before Remus and Sirius, but witnessing something and identifying as it are two very separate entities.

As far as I know, my parents are fairly accepting of other lifestyles. There’s a lesbian couple who they’re friends with who came round for dinner all the time when I was a kid, and obviously they’ve been pretty open to this whole magic thing since Martyn received his first letter from Hogwarts. That doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying to consider telling them how I’ve been feeling when it comes to boys. It’s not something I plan on doing now. Maybe my feelings will change.

So, yeah, summer has been a nice break that I needed. Louise wrote to me several times during the first month to tell me all about her trouble with Seb. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most relationships at our age don’t last, but from her most recent letter, things seem to have settled down between them. I’ve spent most of the summer on the balcony of our flat. In the afternoon, the building just across from ours shades the sun, and it’s a perfect spot for reading or listening to the radio.

There’s a boy who lives in that building. He’s one floor below mine across the way, and sometimes during the evening he sits with an easel and paints on his balcony. I watch him on occasion, usually pretending I’m more invested in my book than I really am. He’s quite good. He mostly likes to do landscape – different buildings around us, sometimes the sunsets – and he always listens to instrumental music, which I like.

He’s been painting all night tonight, but I’m not sure what. This time the canvas is turned away from me, so I can’t make out what he’s up to. He’s been at it for hours, and I’ve been out “reading” for just as long, listening to his soft instrumental songs drift up between our flats. I let my scrawny legs dangle down between the bars of the railing, my eyes roving over the same paragraph again and again, my brain completely elsewhere.

“Hey!” I turn my head toward to the left and see the boy waving at me, a massive grin spread across his face. He has slightly crooked teeth, but beautiful lips; it’s the kind of mouth I’d watch if we ever had a real conversation. He has messy hair, the kind that sticks up in every direction, but in a good way, and it’s a deep chocolate brown.

I prop myself up on my elbow, laying my book on my chest, and wave back. His smile widens and he points to his canvas. I raise my eyebrows in response.

“I’m Jaspar,” he calls to me, and I can’t help but smile a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Phil,” I reply, curious now.

“You made the painting,” he says simply, and I’m confused for a moment until he flips the canvas around. My stomach turns over as I peer at it from across the way. This time it’s my building that he’s painted, and sure enough, I’ve made my way into it. On the third floor up from the ground, I can see the outline of myself with a book, painted with careful, beautiful strokes. I sit up all the way, the book falling to the floor.

“Amazing,” I call with a laugh, leaning into the railing, “I love it!”

Jaspar, Jaspar, Jaspar. He’s all I’ve thought about now for three weeks. Three weeks with him by my side. He’s visiting his aunt, who lives in the flat across from me, and he says she’s a major hippie. He only came to stay this summer to help her pack up before she moves to the U.S. where he lives with his parents. We both know what that really means for us – after this summer, I’ll go back to school, he’ll go back home, and we’ll never see each other again. I think just having the company is nice now, regardless of however it ends.

We spend every day together. Jaspar’s aunt is rarely home, so we’re at his flat more than mine. Besides that, we go out around London a lot. He loves the city because in the U.S. he lives out in the rural area. He told me he has to walk a mile just to get to the nearest neighbor, and their house doesn’t even have a television.

I like how Jaspar talks. He says one day he’s going to travel the world as a famous art critic. He insists he’ll come back to London and sweep me away, but we both know that’s just fantasy. I probably won’t even be in London after Hogwarts. I’ll be off doing some magical job for some magical part of the Ministry, or else teaching. I’d love to teach.

I like Jaspar’s freckles and his hazel eyes. I like that he paints every evening, no matter what. I like that when he holds my hand, his palm is always warm.

Jaspar likes girls and boys. He’s a year older than me, and he says he has a girlfriend back in America that he’s been with for a few months. He sure doesn’t act like he has a girlfriend. He never writes her, and he doesn’t have any pictures of her, and for someone with a girlfriend, he sure does kiss me a lot.

And I mean a lot.

The first time we kissed, we were watching MASH on his aunt’s television set (that’s one thing I miss when I’m at Hogwarts – television shows). When the show started, he was on one end of the couch and I was on the other, but every time he got up – for water, to pee, for a snack – he always ended up a few inches closer to me. I acted like I didn’t notice (but I did), I acted like I didn’t feel his leg pressed against mine as the show ended (but it was so warm), and I even acted like I didn’t notice his hand creeping over my knee to my thigh (but I wanted it to stay there all afternoon).

That being said, I’ve never been a good actor, and by the time his fingers found mine, I couldn’t help myself anymore. So I threw caution to the wind, turned to him, and shoved my mouth against his. It was kind of a mess for a second there. I sure as hell didn’t know what I was doing, and it’s safe to say I was more than a little nervous.

But then his hand found my waist and I was on top of him, my heart hammering so hard that I knew he could feel it because there my chest was, pressed right against his, and there his hands were, sloping down my back as I sat with my legs on either side of his waist and his tongue running circles on my bottom lip. And I remember thinking in that moment, if this is what being gay is, then, fuck, I’m it ‘cause I could do this for the rest of my life.

Jaspar was only around for a couple of weeks after that. We spent that time dancing around one another – happily carefree, neither acknowledging the fact that it would all be over too soon. We’d go to the library and he’d pull books on his favorite painters to show me, then we’d go to the park and I’d talk to him about the garden I’d like to have one day, always careful not to mention anything about Herbology or magic.

I came close, frighteningly close, to telling him on several occasions. I was so close to telling him everything: that I’m a wizard, that I go to a special school for it, that I can use magic. Whenever I felt the words on my tongue, I’d force myself to remember that he’d be gone in a week. In six days. In four, two, one.

On our last day together, we went to all of our favorite places. We got gelato, we went roller skating, we sat at the park by the pond. As the evening came to a close, I laid on his bed, my head in his lap.

“Thank you,” he whispered to me, his hands tracing shapes over my cheeks with his delicate painter’s fingers.

I looked up at him curiously, “For what?” I’d asked, taking his wandering hand in mine and holding it against my chest.

“This summer…it’s been wonderful. I’m going to miss you when I go back.”

At that, I sighed, “I’m going to miss you too,” I’d whispered in response.

In all honesty, the five weeks with Jaspar had been the greatest summer I’d ever had. It was the closest I’d ever felt to the warm looks exchanged between Remus and Sirius across the grounds. But we both knew that our relationship was surface-level. Just like I kept a side of myself hidden away from Jaspar, I could see him doing the same. There were pieces he never shared with me; we weren’t complete together. And that was okay. He was the person I needed then.

That night, when I kissed him, it was with a tenderness, not the flirtatious hunger we’d both been accustomed to. I knew he’d go back to the States and fall back into someone else’s arms, whether it be this girlfriend of his or somebody different, but at least he’d have me somewhere in his mind. I knew I’d have him somewhere in mine.

He pressed himself against me, warmth radiating off of him like it always did, and his hands were soft as they slipped under the edge of my shirt. It was different than it had been any other day that I’d known him. It was goodbye.

When I left that night, it was with a sadness but also a certainty. Jaspar wasn’t the kind of boy I could spend my whole life loving. He was too caught up in his own head, in a dreamworld. He didn’t have a tie to reality, and he definitely wouldn’t understand my reality of being a wizard. But I still kissed him like I loved him, even if I didn’t. I still moaned softly against his lips at his touch, just quiet enough to make him hard without his aunt hearing me through the thin walls. I still slid my hand under his jeans to touch him in a way I hadn’t before.

I still missed him when the summer was over.

But it was always far from love.


	6. Dan's POV

Bellatrix Black was quite the character. She was one year below me, and a Slytherin. I met her one day while walking from Potions to Herbology, her hands filled with books and her curly hair in her eyes. I felt bad, and offered to carry some for her, not thinking she’d never leave my side, like some kind of lovesick school girl, which, I guess, is exactly what she was. 

It worked out well for me though, as I got the girlfriend I was looking for, even if she was a bit wayward and clingy. We started dating in June, right as we were all leaving for the summer holiday, and she invited me to stay with her and her family for a week at their manor. I knew before I even sent the letter to my parents that my father would say yes in a heartbeat. Needless to say, he could not have been more enthusiastic about my endeavors to capture the heart of, what he called, a “very worthy Slytherin girl.” 

The House of Black was intimidating, I’ll admit. It was kind of scary, honestly, the whole vibe was so vampiric I thought Bellatrix’s sisters Andromeda and Narcissa would surely bend my neck back at any minute and pass me around like a juice box. It didn’t happen, but I kept my guard up regardless. 

When I first arrived, Narcissa opened the door for me. She looked like the polar opposite of Bella, with hair so blonde it was practically white, and none of the curls that crowded Bella’s face. She looked half dead, but then again, they all kind of did.

“Daniel Howell?” she asked, looking me up and down. I swallowed, avoiding her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, hi. I’m here for Bella?” I squeaked. She smirked.

“We know. Come in, Bella is just through the door on the right.” She stepped aside to let me in, and I timidly walked past her.

The room on the right was full of plush chairs and couches, and at least 20 people, all quietly speaking to each other and all showcasing that zombie-fied look that most of the Black’s possessed. Eventually I realized that I had just walked in on what seemed to be an impromptu Black family reunion. Great.

“Danny!” Bella jumped up from her spot on one of the couches, running over to me and practically knocking me over with the force of her hug. I noticed the person she was sitting beside was none other than the boy from the classroom, the one with the shiny black hair. The one with the long, gentle fingers. 

“Hey, Bella,” I said, returning her hug.

“Let me introduce you! Everyone, this is Daniel Howell, my boyfriend.” Bella put an emphasis on the last word, and my stomach swam with apprehension, but I smiled around the room anyway.

“A Howell, eh? So prestigious.” Said the boy with the black hair. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Or, maybe, I wanted to give him more reason to keep it there. I shake away that last thought.

“Don’t be rude, Sirius.” Bella had latched herself on to my arm, a tight grip keeping me next to her. “Danny is just as powerful as you, aren’t you Danny?” she looked up at me.

“Oh, well I don’t know about that.” I laughed awkwardly, catching a rather chilling look from Sirius. 

Sirius. It was so nice to finally put a name to the face. As I observed him sitting there on the couch, dark circles under his eyes and dressed in all black, surrounded by his formidable family, I was surprised that his “type” is so soft. Some sweater boy with a head full of loose curls. Interesting, humorous, even. I wondered what his name was. I wondered if anyone else in this room knew what I knew. 

“Please, Dan, you were turning mice into paper weights on your first day of Transfiguration! He’s a natural born talent, and all of his family, too!” Bella gushed over me, and it made me uncomfortable to be the center of attention in front of so many people I didn’t know.

Sirius scoffed and I could physically feel the heat rise to my face. “Shame you can’t do magic over summer then. I’d love to see some of this ‘natural talent’ in action.” His smirk, which I had begun to understand was his resting face, didn’t falter, and I had to look away, for reasons I couldn’t understand or explain. I felt like a million cocoons were hatching in my lower stomach, and butterflies were trying to fly free through my throat. I needed water, and to be out of that room as soon as possible.

I saw Sirius a handful of other times during the week I spent at the Black’s. In fact, it seemed as though all of the people who were there the first day never left, like the entire family, extended members and all, were all staying in the manor, whether for the summer or in general, I never found out. 

Sirius spent most of his time in his room. He did receive a plethora of letters that week, and one day, after being asked by Andromeda to deliver them up to his room, I noticed that they all had a little crescent moon doodled where the name of the sender should have been. 

When Sirius opened the door to collect the letters, he took one look at the writing on the front and immediately snatched them from my hands, muttering, “Thanks,” before closing his door. I stood there, trying to listen for any movements or talking, but eventually felt weird and out of place, like a stalker, or some form of a peeping tom.

The only other time I had a run-in encounter with Sirius was on the afternoon of my fourth day. Bella had been out with her sisters all morning, and I took it upon myself to cautiously explore as much of the manor as I could without seeming suspicious. But, since I am myself and I am unfortunately prone to the worst kinds of awkward situations, I found myself stumbling into the kitchen, where a very focused-looking Sirius was hunched over the counter writing what looks to be a letter. 

“Secret admirer?” It seems I had an excess amount of bravery on this day.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He looked up at me for a moment before returning back to writing.

“Perfectly content, thank you.” I replied.

“Hey, I’m not the one who asked.” He began folding the paper in half and sticking it inside an envelope. I couldn’t catch a good glimpse of who it was to.

“Are you always this snarky, Black?” I asked as Sirius began walking over to me, standing directly in front of me. He looked at me dead in the face, and as badly as I wanted to pull my eyes away, I couldn’t.

Suddenly, he leans forward, and my heart nearly explodes at the space between us getting smaller, when suddenly he reaches behind me, his chest making direct contact with my shoulder, and into a drawer to collect a wax stamp to seal the envelope. 

“Are you always this charming, Howell?”

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, I just stood there, opening, closing and reopening my mouth.

Sirius snickers, reaching out and taking one of my curls between his fingers, giving it a little tug. 

“See you around,” he says before leaving the room.

I stood there for a good minute, trying to collect my thoughts, and letting my knees regain enough strength to carry me out of the kitchen.

I felt so angry with him, angry that someone of such an irksome nature could allow me to completely combust. Surely, I could not be this whipped for some fucking bloke, especially one so irritating.

My curiosity about Sirius and the letters ran so high the entire week I found it virtually impossible to bring my mind back to my main goal, the reason I was there in the first place, what I was ultimately trying to get out of all of this.

The first time I kissed Bellatrix, it was the evening of my final day at the Black’s. We had just finished dinner and had escaped to the garden to take a walk, stopping under the gazebo to sit. 

“Have you had fun this week, Dan?” she looked pretty in the melting sun light, and I remember noticing a stray leaf that had gotten hopelessly lost within her mess of curls.

I reached up to pull it out, quickly realizing it was attached to a tiny, white flower. I twirled the flower between my fingers, before taking her hand and placing it directly in the center of her palm.

“Definitely.” I said.

“Will you send me owl post this summer? It’s so boring here without you.” She places the flower behind her ear.

“Of course,” I say. “What else would I do?” I looked at her, and my heart was in my stomach.

I ignored the thoughts in my head, the ones that said, “You’re going to break her heart. Don’t do this, you twat. You know you don’t mean it.”

I wasn’t going to break her heart. I couldn’t. She was a beautiful, pure-blooded Black, the perfect match for me. There was no one else I could possibly be with, just this girl. This girl. Girls, girls, girls.

I repeated it in my head as I leaned in, snaking my hand around the back of her neck, soft with baby hair, and brought her lips to mine. I tried to focus on the warmth of her mouth, but my mind was plagued with thoughts of broader shoulders, of rougher lips, of longer fingers tangled in my hair. 

I kept it up for a good thirty seconds, before my eyes were prickling so much, I thought a tear might fall right onto her face. When she looked at me, she was smiling. I forced one back.

“Wow,” she rested her head on my shoulder. It was kind of awkward, but something told me she was really enjoying herself, so I let her lean into me.

We sat under the gazebo until the night swallowed up the sun, and the next day it was time for me to finally return to my own house. Bella would not let my lips be separated from hers for more than two minutes at a time, and by the time it came for me to get on the train to go back to mine, I felt what I can only describe as relief. 

Father wanted to hear all about the pretty Slytherin girl I had “wrapped around my finger”, but only until more mysterious guests showed up. Just like the summer before, I was being ushered off to my room. I tried to protest, reminding them that I was a teenager, that I was top of my class and that I deserved to know what was going on in my own house.

“But it’s not your house, dear.” My mother patted my shoulder and spoke in her emotionally -watered down voice. “Besides, you’re 13, not 17, everything you wish to know will be available to you once you come of age. Don’t concern yourself with our matters, focus on becoming the greatest wizard you can.”

I picked up the pace, reaching the top of the stairs before she could, muttering, “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

I sent letters back and forth with Bellatrix the rest of the summer. Hers were full of “I miss you” and “I can’t wait for school to begin.” 

I let her do most of the talking, replying back with the things I knew she wanted to hear, telling her I couldn’t wait to see her and that we’d have a blast in the Fall.

My dreams at night were filled with blurry images of soft, toned chests and strong bone structure. It was always warm, but frightening, the feeling of doing something exciting for the first time. I could hear my own heavy breathing, and someone panting my name. No one had ever said my name like that before. 

I always woke up feeling dirty, and like everyone around me knew what distasteful, repulsive things my unconscious mind had been feeding me. I felt disgusting. Disgraceful.

If waiting the agonizing remaining month to get back to school didn’t kill me, my mind surely would.


	7. Phil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm so sorry for the shorter chapter. I would have added more but the next scenes are going to be pretty lengthy and this felt like a good place to break it off before the chaos starts. Think of this as a kind of prequel for what's to come :-) I promise to make up for it in the next chapter!

When I come back to school in the fall, it’s with a different confidence than I had before the summer. Martyn and I take the Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley about a week before school begins. Since he’s a fourth year now, mum and dad let him get a pet, and of course he went with the worst kind – a toad! Next year, I’d like to get a cat, I think. Just looking at the kittens inside the shop window got me excited.

Looking through my new books on the train, I can already tell this year is going to be more difficult, but I feel good about it. My spell-work has come a long way over the past year, and more than anything I’m excited to move to greenhouse two and work with more difficult plants in Herbology.

Louise sits with me instead of Seb on the train. I’m pretty sure they’re arguing about something again, because she’s less cheerful than she usually is on the first day back to school. I keep asking about how her summer went, and she just shrugs and gives me single sentence answers, which is very un-Louise like indeed. This is probably the only time in my life that I’m actually wishing she’d be more talkative. I’m dying for her to pelt me with questions like she usually does so I can tell her all about Jaspar. I suppose now that I think about it, maybe it’s not the best idea to tell her anything about him at all. She doesn’t even know that I like boys.

While they do the Sorting that night, I catch myself looking for my favorite couple at the Gryffindor table, only to realize that they’ve graduated. I wonder what they’re up to now. I wonder if they’re still together. I sure hope so.

It’s really wonderful meeting all of the new first years. They’re so eager to learn, and I try to welcome them warmly. I remember how terrifying it was to walk into this world of magic so young, so I offer some of the first years spots next to Louise and me. They’re lovely to talk to, and once the feast is over, I help show them to our common room.

Martyn wasn’t kidding when he said the workload changed a lot from second year to third year, but I actually feel on top of school for the first time in my life. I think other people can feel my newfound self-confidence. By the second month of school, I’ve got a study group together with a couple of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who I have courses with. I even got invited to a Halloween party that a group of Gryffindors threw late one night when Filch was sick with the flu. I only went for a moment because I ended up having to carry a very tipsy Louise back to the common room, but it was just nice to feel included.

By the time Christmas break rolls around, I finally feel like I have a real place for myself at Hogwarts. The day before I’m supposed to leave with Martyn to go home for the holidays, I decide I can’t keep the events of the summer to myself any longer. I’ve got to tell Louise.

I wait all day for the right moment to tell her, but every time I feel myself getting up the courage, something seems to go wrong. At breakfast, several of my study group friends come over to talk to me about when we’ll meet up after the holidays. On break, Seb is all over Louise like ants over honey. Finally, at the end of the night, we’re the last two in the common room, and I realize this may be my last chance. The fire is dying in front of us. Louise has her nose buried in some book that her mother sent her, and I’ve been taking notes in my herbology book all evening. I don’t even realize we’re the only two left until Louise closes her book with a snap.

“Well, I’m off to bed, Phil, will I see you in the morning?” she asks, putting her things in her bag with a yawn.

“Um, I think Martyn and I are leaving pretty early…wait, Lou?” I ask, and she pauses, looking at me expectantly, “Can I talk to you about something?”

She smiles at me in that reassuring way of hers, “Of course, what’s up?” She perches on the edge of her armchair, setting the bag back down.

“Well…you see, I’ve wanted to tell you this since summer, but…I didn’t really know how.” Suddenly my face feels too warm and I can’t meet her eyes. She looks confused, but intrigued and I swallow, my throat feeling like it’s full of sandpaper. Am I really about to do this?

“I met someone over the summer,” I finally say after a moment of thinking over my words.

Louise smiles excitedly at that, but I wish she wouldn’t as my stomach writhes with the thought of my next few words.

“His name’s Jaspar,” I say, my voice quiet, and I’m disgusted by the humiliation in my own voice. I feel shame rise in my face, my cheeks and ears hot. I can’t meet her eyes.

“Oh. Um…” my stomach sinks as I brace for her next few words. She’ll probably say she won’t be my friend anymore. Maybe she’ll even decide to tell other people. I’m about to open my mouth to beg her to not to tell anyone when my eyes meet hers and I see that she’s grinning.

“Phil, I’m so happy for you. Of course…I didn’t know you liked blokes, but I’m glad you met someone no matter who they are. Are you going to visit him on break? Will you take a picture so I can see?”

I can’t reply for a moment. I feel as though a thunderhead has broken open above me and released the most wonderful, refreshing rain. I feel tears spring to my eyes as Louise wraps me into a hug.

“No,” I whisper against her sweet-smelling hair, “it was just for the summer…I just wanted you to know.”

She pulls away, her face still stretched in a smile, and she puts one of her soft hands against my cheek, “Thank you for sharing that with me. You know I’m always here for you, right?”

I nod, and she kisses the top of my head, “Now get to bed, you have an early train ride. And don’t snog any cute blokes over break without writing a letter to me all about it while you’re away.” She winks at me as she walks back to her dorm and gives me one final wave before heading down the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.  


That night when I go to sleep, it’s with the most wonderful warmth in my stomach.


	8. Dan's POV

Going back to school for my third year in August was nice because this time I was fully investing myself in Bella.

We went everywhere together, hand in hand. I walked her to all her classes, giving her kisses before we departed. We met up in the common room after dinner each night to sneak off and wander around, looking out for Filch as we class room hopped.

I let her kiss away any unwanted feelings I was having, and I didn’t have to worry about ever seeing Sirius in school, because he had finally finished. 

Come Christmas time, I didn’t want to go home. I asked Bella if she would stay with me over the break, but she said her mother would never allow it. She offered for me to come join her and her family, but the thought of seeing Sirius and his infernal smirk for two weeks made me want to rip the ribs out of my chest.

I decided that I’d spend the two weeks alone at Hogwarts to clear my head and let myself breathe.

I only knew of two other people spending the holiday at Hogwarts, and that was my friend Sebastian and his girlfriend Louise. Sebastian was a right twat who wouldn’t shut up if his life depended on it, but he made me laugh, and that counted for something. Louise was a sweet girl, the kind of girl who blushed at someone giving her a kiss or calling her pretty. She was too sweet for Seb, even I knew that, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Saying goodbye to Bella was long and drawn out, as I expected it would be. I couldn’t get her to get off my mouth for more than two seconds before she was diving back in again, like a fish trying to get back into the sea. Weird analogy. 

When she finally gets on the train, I physically felt tension release from my shoulders. I should feel bad that her leaving feels so good, but all I can focus on is the blissful reality of not having to do anything but have fun with my friends for the next two weeks.

A couple days in and I’ve already received multiple letters from Bellatrix, all written in thin cursive handwriting. She mentioned her mother being happy that she found me, and how she thinks we’ll be together forever. Something rises up into my chest at that, and I quickly realize that they’re tears. I feel like they should be tears of happiness, that I’ve finally found someone so fond of me, but they’re not. They’re accompanied by an overbearing weight of guilt. The knowledge that I’m taking things so far with a girl who hardly crosses my mind during the day suddenly seems so merciless and cruel. I feel worse than I ever have, and I didn’t think that was possible. 

I know I have to write her back I just have no idea what to say. I decide the smartest thing to do would be to tiptoe around the things Bella said, and be very general in my response. I tell her that I hope she’s having a good break so far and that I’m looking forward to more classes in January. I ask her to tell her mother that I hope they all have a very Merry Christmas. I tell her that the castle is far less exciting without her high-wired energy. I tell her that I miss her. I didn’t have to include the last bit, but it was true. I do miss her. Bella is fun to be around, she’s a giant ball of chaotic energy. The halls were so quiet without her loud laughing and yelling jokes at her friends. I don’t want to kiss her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be around her.

It’s late, nearing curfew, by the time I take my letter up to the owlery. It’s practically freezing tonight and all I have on are my pajamas, and the higher I climb the more I can feel the wind through the thin fabric of my pants.

When I reach the door to the owlery it’s ajar, cold air seeping through the thin crack. I push it with my fingers and let it creak the rest of the way open. There’s a Gryffindor boy, no older than 4th year, tying a letter to the leg of one of the brown owls.

When he hears the door, he looks over to me and gives me a small smile, which I return. I walk over to an owl and begin tying my letter, and I can’t help but catch the boy staring at me a few times during the process. I feel awkward, like there’s a spotlight on me, and I feel the need to say something to break the silence.

“It’s fucking freezing in here.” I say. Idiot.

The boy gives a small chuckle. “That it is. Mind you though, I was smart enough to wear a coat.” He gestures to the jacket he’s wearing, and I roll my eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’m not perfect.” I say with an over dramatic sigh.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” The boy says, finishing up with his owl and walking back towards the door.

He’s flirting with me, I think. Surely this is what is happening, he’s flirting with me and I’m letting him and I don’t want to feel the tidal wave in my stomach, I didn’t choose for it to be there, but I finish tying my letter and let it carry me to the door anyway, right where he’s standing.

“Let’s go somewhere warmer.” He says, opening the door for me. I lick my lips, slightly chapped from the cold, and leave through the door, him following.

We make it halfway down the staircase before the boy stops and leans against the wall.

“Does this constitute as warm to you?” I ask playfully, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Are you warm?” He asks. He’s smirking, but not in the way that Sirius smirks. This is different, it’s mocking me, daring me to kiss it. 

“I could be warmer.”

The boy’s eyes flick up to mine, and I can clearly identify a look of insatiable hunger. It’s a look that makes me excited, and I’ve forgotten all the worries of school, of my father, of Bella. In this moment, all I can think of is the boy’s lips, slightly parted, and how badly I want to feel them on me.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, coming over to my side of the stair well, placing a hand on either side of my head.

“Yeah,” I breathe, and he leans in, trailing his tongue from the bottom of my neck up to the top, stopping just under my jaw to kiss.

I shudder, automatically bringing my hands up to his chest, pulling on the sides of his jacket for balance. 

He keeps kissing all around my neck, and when I feel him start sucking my knees nearly give out beneath me. I can hear him giggle.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a bottom.”

In that split second, my whole body goes cold. I suddenly realize who I am and what I’m doing. I know the difference between tops and bottoms, dominant and submissive. I think of myself, underneath this boy. I think of him on top of me. I think of my father. I think of Bella asleep back home, dreaming of little curly-haired kids with our hyphenated last names. 

I push the boy off me, and he stumbles into the wall he was initially leaning against. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go.” I say, the anger in my chest rising to my throat, furious sobs were seconds away from escaping my mouth. 

“No, no, don’t go. Look, I’m sorry I gave you a hickey, I-“ the boy reaches out for me but I swipe my hand away.

“No, stop. Just, I- I’m not gay.” I say.

The boy looks confused. I wish I could push him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.” He says. I take it back. I wish I could punch him.

I have no idea what to say, so I just take off down the stairs, resisting the urge to stop and slam my fists into the cement walls until the skin falls off of my hands. I want to scream until I have no voice, cry until my insides are completely dried up.

I want out of my body. I want out of my head. I want out of this stupid fucking life full of my father’s inevitable disappointment in me and girlfriends I’m not truly in love with and secret conversations in my own house that I’m too young to be a part of.

As I run across the lawn to get back to the castle I think about bolting into the forest. I’d let whatever wild creatures reside there ration my body up for food, or I’d make a home out of twigs and leaves and let myself waste away entirely. Anything but having to sit with this. Anything but having to be with myself.


	9. Dan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a TW but this chapter does contain some LGBT slang and also some bullying :(

I guess it’s good I didn’t go home over break, because Seb told me something I never would’ve believed had I not been here. 

Louise had begun hanging out in the Slytherin common room over the last few days, I assume because she’s lonely, but this means we all stay up pretty late chatting. 

Last night, around midnight, Louise, Seb, a few other of Seb’s Slytherin friends and I were all sat in the common room, passing a bottle of fire whiskey that Louise had had stashed away, when Seb and Lou started bickering to each other.

“No, Seb, stop. I never should have told you.” Louise takes a swig from the bottle before passing it to me.

“Told you what?” asks the boy next to me. I think his name is Andrew but personally, I think he looks like a Billy, and that isn’t a compliment.

“I’ve got a secret, and it’s not about me.” Seb smiles deviously, and as bad as it sounds, I’m intrigued.

“Yeah, perhaps that’s why you shouldn’t tell it.” Louise is obviously annoyed. She seems overly anxious, like the walls might collapse around her at any moment.

“Well, spill it, Seb. Who’s it about?” Andrew asks.

“Seb,” Louise starts but Seb waves her off before she can finish.

“Enough, Lou, it’s not like it’s a fucking surprise to anyone, innit?” Sebastian seems angry with her, and I realize this has probably been an ongoing fight for at least a few hours, if not days. “You all know that kid Lester? Hufflepuff, right goofy lookin’ lad.”

My heart stops. I haven’t heard that name in so long. I’ve had classes with him the last two years, I think, and I know Louise and him are friends, but could this be him? The same kid who had sand crusted on the edges of his robes on the day of the Sorting? 

“Yeah, I know him. Bit wayward, eh?” Andrew takes a gulp of the whiskey and passes it back to me. I hold it in my hands.

“Oh, you have no idea mate. Turns out Lester is-“

“Seb, enough! Seriously it’s not funny.” Louise is on her feet now.

“Calm down, Lou, you’re the one who told me. You didn’t seem to care when you were gloating about how your new best friend is a fucking bender.”

I’m mid swig when I choke, the “fire” in fire whiskey living up to its name and practically charring the inside of my throat. “What?” I say.

“Oh, fuck Sebastian.” Louise says, walking to the other side of the room with her head in her hands. 

“He’s gay. Full on fucks blokes for fun and all that shit.” Seb has a smile on his face like this is the funniest joke he’s ever told.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Told Lou all about some guy he hooked up with over summer, real steamy shit.” 

They keep talking around me, but I can barely hear them. I just keep seeing that face. The pink risen up to his cheeks, the look of absolute relief when he was welcomed with wide open arms at the Hufflepuff table, the smile he gave when introducing himself to his new family. “Goofy” looking. There wasn’t anything goofy about him. The same boy I’d been overly envious of back in our first year, was just like me. And right now, he was probably fucking terrified. 

On the first day back from break, Bella and I walk hand in hand, a few strides behind Seb and Andrew. She tells me all about her break, and how Sirius won’t stop using magic in the house now that he’s legally allowed to. Funnily enough, hearing his name doesn’t affect me as much as it used to, and I’m able to offer her a smile that’s mostly genuine as she goes through her stories. 

When we near the edge of the staircase I notice that Seb is yelling down at someone. I let go of Bella’s hand and jog further ahead, where I see Phil Lester on the ground, his things strewn out all around him, his face washed over with mortification, like he’ll start crying any minute. 

Seb is screaming slurs, not showing any intention of letting up. I look down at Phil, and he meets my gaze. He’s practically begging me with his eyes to do something, to say anything. I feel like the entire world has stopped spinning on its axis. I try to tell him I’m sorry using only my face, that I want to help so badly, but what do I say? What do I do?

Seb and Bella are laughing, practically screeching at the words being thrown at Phil. I can see each slur hit him like a punch to the face. He looks completely broken, like a flower bent in half. 

I feel a response bubbling in my throat, and just as I’m about to say something, Flitwick comes out of a classroom and everything in the world starts turning again. Seb is turning backwards, away from the stairs, and Bella is gripping my hand and hauling me along with them.

We all go back to the common room, crowding up in a group, and everyone starts laughing at the things that were just said to the poor Hufflepuff boy. Seb is cackling his head off and Bella too, and I so badly want to inch myself out of the circle but she’s got her hands wrapped around my arm, holding me close to her body. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Bella, let go.” I say, loud enough for only her to hear.

“What’s wrong, Danny? Don’t go.” She pleads, and Seb casts a look over to us.

“What’s up, Howell? You like poofs now?” Seb asks. I haven’t exactly been subtle with the fact that I don’t find this even slightly amusing; I’m the only one who hasn’t joined in on the bullying. The fact that he’s calling me out on it though, makes me realize what kind of person Sebastian really is. How could I have ever been friends with a human like this?

But I feel like my cover is being blown, that any minute they might circle around and start pinning the comments on me, too. I don’t want to be in Phil’s shoes. I can’t afford to be in Phil’s shoes. Maybe I never had a chance at being a Gryffindor, because if I did, I would be standing my ground right now, unafraid of what these assholes have to say about me. And maybe I never would’ve been a Hufflepuff, like poor Phil, because in the face of all this I’d be standing by his side, defending him because we are one in the same, and the probably feels more alone than ever. And maybe I could never have been a Ravenclaw, because I would have been able to show these people what kind of person Phil is underneath all of the harsh labels they were slapping on him. I’d be able to prove that there’s more than meets the eye, that people aren’t only skin deep.

But I’m not any of those things. I could never be any of those things. My self-preservation is too high, I’m too heavily weighing the costs and benefits of this situation. I’m too experienced in manipulating a situation to get what I want out of it, and right now, all I want is to remain safe. 

And maybe this makes me selfish. Maybe I am just like my father.

“Fuck no,” I reply to Sebastian. “Don’t insult me.”

Seb smiles in return. I wish I could kick myself.

I don’t see Phil much after that day, which makes me feel like he completely goes avoids people altogether, waiting till no one’s in the halls to go to class. Or maybe he has people bring him food from meal times, if he even still has friends.

I keep having dreams too, ones where Phil is sitting by the edge of a cliff, his feet dangling, the sun setting, and everything looks serene. I am standing in a bush, watching him, when Seb and Andrew and the other Slytherin boys all come into my field of vision, heading directly toward Phil.

I try to call out but it’s like there’s a cork in my throat, stopping any noise from leaking out, though I try to scream at Phil to turn, nonetheless. 

The other boys start yelling things at Phil, but it just sounds like loud noises to me, and Phil looks so scared. He knows there’s no escape, and I can’t move or speak. I can’t do anything. Would I though, if I could?

The boys kick and punch Phil until he’s nothing more than a curled-up child, struggling to shield himself from the blows. He looks so small and helpless. 

Eventually, near the end of the dream, the boys abandon Phil there, bloody and broken. I can see from my spot in the bush that Phil’s face is barely distinguishable, his soft pale skin plastered with dark red crusted blood, his hair matted with dirt.

Right before the dream ends, I always stare down at my hands. There’s blood all over them, and I start sobbing. 

“No!” I think. “I didn’t do it!” 

But I did, didn’t I? 

In a way, I hurt him most of all.


	10. Phil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Please be aware of the TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter:
> 
> The following chapter contains scenes that deal with forced outing and intense bullying. Please be cautious when approaching this chapter if those are things that you find upsetting.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

I can’t wait to see Louise when I get back from winter break, but I can’t seem to find her anywhere. My first day back, I look for her in the common room, the library, and her favorite spot by a blank wall on the seventh-floor corridor, but to no avail. I even ask a first year to check in the girls’ dormitories for her, but she’s not there either. Maybe she went home after all.

Besides not being able to find Louise, things are strange around the castle. When I go to ask Chase, one of the Ravenclaws in my study group, about meeting up later this week, he keeps missing my gaze and he rushes off before I’ve even had a chance to talk to him. While I walk from the grounds back into the castle, still at a loss for where Louise could be if she is at the school, I feel like everyone’s looking at me. My stomach rolls a little, and definitely not in a pleasant way. I duck my head a bit, starting up the main staircase. I’m nearly at the top of the stairs when a loud voice calls out from behind me.

“Oy! Lester! It true that you’re a poof now?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stick up and I feel my whole body get heavier. It’s as if someone’s placed weights into all my pockets and thrown me into the lake. I’m stuck for a second, not sure whether or not I should turn around.

“Any blokes give you a good fuck over break, bum boy?”

I turn for just a moment, my eyes catching on Seb’s familiar face. I blink my eyes quickly, trying to fight back tears as the entrance hall goes quiet. Seb’s face is stretched in a leering grin, his green eyes flashing maliciously as he takes me in.

“I asked you a question, queer,” he says, taking several more steps towards me. I’m two steps above him now, but he’s still easily got four inches on me. My chest coils tightly and my insides feel slimy with humiliation. Surely, the whole school knows.

Seb moves up another step and pushes me backwards a little. My heel catches on the last step before the landing and I fall back onto my hands, my neck craning to look up at him.

“Gotta get some new pink robes if you really are a poof. Sprinkle some glitter everywhere you walk, yeah?” The group of friends behind him laugh harshly and my eyes roam over their faces quickly. I want to know the faces of who hates me. My eyes stop on the only boy not laughing. It’s that Daniel boy, the one always battling with Louise for top of our class. He stands a few steps away from his friends, and when I look at him, he’s already watching me. There’s something less malicious behind his gaze, and I try to plead with him silently to help me, but he only looks away.

There’s a click from behind me and the sound of boots on stone and suddenly it’s as though nothing happened at all. I see Flitwick pass behind me as chatter resumes immediately, everyone aware of the presence of a teacher, and Seb passes me with his friends, careful to trod on my hand as he goes, muttering, “Disgusting faggot” over his shoulder.

That’s it, I think as I pick up my things with shaky hands. One person – I told one person – and now my entire life here is over. I walk quickly down the hallway, my eyes glued to the floor. I can feel tears running down my cheeks before I’m even in the bathroom, and before I have a chance to check the stalls for feet, a strangled sob bubbles up and out of my chest. I point my wand carelessly at the door, gasping, “Colloportus,” as another sob rips from my throat. I throw my bag to the floor, feeling like my veins are full of lead as I slide to the tiles below, my robes pooling out around me.

I stay there through the bell for lunch, then for the one for tea. I close my eyes and try to imagine a scenario where this can get any better. Remus and Sirius were out at school. They were together, and they never got any shit for it. But then I think of their two friends and the fact that all of them were popular among their year. I haven’t got anybody to stick up for me, probably not even Louise now. I couldn’t be more alone.

I wait until dinner to leave the bathroom, knowing full and well that the corridors should be empty. My eyes are swollen, and my head is aching as I walk quickly and quietly down the steps to the common room. I’m standing at the steps that lead down to the boys’ dormitory when my stomach sinks even further (if that’s possible) and I think about the fact that I share a room with five other boys. What the fuck am I going to do.

I start down the steps, thinking that I can camp out on the top of the astronomy tower until classes start back up in order to let the boys in my dorm cool off. By the time I realize that someone’s already back in my room, it’s too late. I’ve got the door half open as I see Simon, one of my fellow third years, bent over a book on his bed. He looks up as I enter, and I immediately see his face harden. He drops his gaze back to his book and I enter the room quietly, walking immediately over to my bed.

“Jus’ so you know, Lester,” he says almost under his breath, his eyes still fastened on his book, “’m not gonna share a room wit’ some poofter. Even if I have-ta complain to the ‘eadmaster. ‘M not livin’ ‘round you.”

I don’t know what to do as he finishes speaking. I stay rooted to the spot before reaching into my trunk, grabbing a robe at random and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I bolt out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time as my eyes burn again. I’m not even welcome in my own room now. My feeling of home here has turned into dust.

I didn’t know that I could feel this kind of hatred before. I didn’t know that it was possible to feel so repulsed by myself. I reach the chilly air at the top of the astronomy towel and throw down the spare robe I grabbed, sitting on it as a makeshift bed. I could easily summon a fire to keep myself warm, but I relish the cold. It’s a punishment that I feel I deserve for feeling this way - for liking boys. Something in the back of my head tells me I deserve what happened today too. Everything Seb said about me was true. I shouldn’t let myself be upset about the slurs if I actually am what he’s calling me.

Fucking poof. That’s me.  
I want to scream as I sit there, my breath visible in the frigid air, my knuckles red as the sun fully sets and the sky is nothing but ink. I was stupid to think that anything like Jaspar (or anything better than Jaspar) could ever happen out in the real world. Nobody would ever accept something like that. If my best friend can’t stand by me, surely the rest of the world won’t either. And certainly, no boy will never love me openly.

I lay on my back, goosebumps raised on my skin where it brushes the icy stone. There’re little snowflakes falling tonight; I can see them sticking to my eyelashes. They fall from the pitch darkness and melt against my skin, which surely can’t be that warm at this point. I wish I could melt away too.

I must fall asleep up there, because it’s not long before I’m waking up to a shuffling sound. When I turn my head, suddenly aware of the stiffness in my spine, my face meets warmth and a flickering light that I can see through my eyelids. I open them sharply, not sure if whoever is there is trying to be nice or just get me in trouble.

“Phil?” a small voice calls from across the blue, controlled flames in front of me. I can make out blonde hair.

“Louise, is that you?” I say. There’s relief in my voice, and I lean into the warmth of the fire for a moment before the events of the day rush back to me. I sit up, pulling my legs in against me.

“What do you want,” I ask, my voice deadpan as she leans forward into the light. I can see that she’s been crying, and some angry beast in my chest grins at that. Good, she should cry. She’s the fucking reason I’m up here anyway.

“Phil, I’m so sorry. I never should have told Seb – he’s been so horrible, and I just thought that because he was my boyfriend I could confide in him. I was so happy for you when you told me and I just wanted to share that with somebody, but I shouldn’t have I –“ she breaks off, her lip wobbling as she tries to meet my eyes, but I keep looking down at the blue fire.

“Was,” I reply, determined not to look at her. If I meet her eyes, I might feel bad when I see tears there.

“What?”

“You said he WAS your boyfriend.” I finally glance up at Louise and she’s looking at me, her expression slightly confused.

“Phil, I had to break up with him,” she says, her eyes wide, “after he just blurted out what you told me to everyone? And then…then I heard what happened…” she starts to cry harder, biting at her bottom lip as it shakes. She closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath, calming herself down, “That just reconfirmed that I made the right decision.”

It’s silent for a beat between us. I feel like my insides are fighting with one another; half of me wants to let her pull me into a warm Louise hug, while the other half is stuck on being furious at her. Her eyes stay locked on me. and I can see her trying to figure out which half is winning. I finally let out a defeated sigh and look back up at her.

“I’m mad at you, Lou. But I know you didn’t do any of this maliciously. It’s not your fault that you dated a complete arse.” She smiles at my response, letting out a laugh that’s half a sob as she throws her arms around me. I let her hug me, even though my chest is still tight with anger. It nice to feel like I’ve got someone on my side again – plus, I’m freezing.

Louise leads me down the astronomy tower and back toward the Hufflepuff common room. It’s got to be two or three in the morning, so we talk in hushed whispers as we walk, afraid that we might get caught by a teacher or a ghost.

She tells me that she’d been down in the Slytherin common room for the afternoon, afraid to face me when I came back from holiday, but that as soon as Seb returned, bragging about what he’d done to me, she got so angry that she left. She spent all through dinner and well after curfew looking for me, and she tells me it was only by luck that she found me.

“I noticed the door to the tower was cracked open, and I figured I might as well check since you like that class so much,” she says in a hushed whisper as we tiptoe through the corridors.

I tell her exactly what happened with Seb, and as we near the common room, I stop, my stomach rolling.

“I can’t go into my dormitory,” I say, and I recall to her what happened with Simon. Louise is furious; she’s ready to storm down there and yell at the boys, but I beg her not to.

“I can just camp out in the common room, Lou,” I insist, my chest constricting at the thought of not even being welcome in my own bed.

“Bollocks! Absolutely not, Philip. If you aren’t going to sleep in your own room, you’ll sleep in mine, and if any of the girls have something to say on it, I’ll – I’ll –” she rams her fist against her hand and I can’t help by smile weakly. It’s like watching an angry chipmunk.

“Lou, that’s nice and all, but I can’t even get into the girls’ dormitories. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History; the staircase won’t let boys down.”

She bats her hand at me, “No, no, no, that’s what everyone thinks, but that’s not necessarily true. Last year, Lauren Engle’s baby brother was a first year and he came to sleep in her bed with her all the time because he was scared. The staircase just won’t let you in if you have intentions that are anything but pure. And, considering you don’t fancy any of us and all you want is a bed, I’m sure it’ll let you down.”

I look at her in awe, something in my head still not believing her, but I shrug, “Fine, we can try. But when it doesn’t work, I’m kipping on the sofa.”

I watch as she descends toward the girls’ dormitories, and preparing myself for whatever’s to come, I start to follow.

The stairs remain ordinary stairs the whole way down. They don’t throw me backward with relentless force or become a brick wall right in front of my nose. They stay stairs as I reach the bottom, and Louise takes one of my hands.

“Now just keep quiet,” she whispers, cracking the door open with a squeak.

“Louise, did you sneak out again to get with that cracky boyfriend of yours?” a voice calls from the other side, and Louise groans.

“I thought they’d be asleep for sure,” she whispers to me as the door is pulled all the way open from the other side. Candles are flickering by the bedposts of most of the girls, and they’re all sitting around one bed. They look at me as the door opens and my stomach sinks.

“Oooh, is that Phil?” a girl with red hair (Mary, maybe?) croons from her bed. “Bring him in, bring him in” she squeals excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“Um…is it okay if he stays here tonight, girls?” Louise asks the group, most of whom are still silently watching me from the bed. “His roommates have kicked him out for…well…you know.”

“Liking blokes?” the blonde girl, Lauren, finishes. The other girls are quiet, all looking at her. She’s clearly the leader here.

“Yeah,” I say, and their heads turn to me. It’s like watching the spectators at a tennis match, “I like blokes.”

I can see that they’re somewhat surprised to hear me say this, and in all honesty, I can’t believe I let those words come out of my mouth so confidently. Lauren nods at me, her eyes somewhat searching, and then cracks a smile. 

“He can stay,” she says finally, and I feel Louise let out a long breath beside me.

I stay in the girls’ dormitories that night, and the nights after. Louise and Mary are nice about bringing me food and tea from meals (something tells me they know the way into the kitchens too, because sometimes they come back with full, wrapped-up trays for me). I do most of my coursework in the common room or else in the girls’ dormitory, trying to keep my time out in the rest of the school to a minimum.

Things certainly settle more, but they never completely go back to normal, and my entire body still tenses any time I see Seb. He and his friends remain pretty tame in classes, with nothing more than nasty notes charmed to fly at me as aeroplanes and poke me in the back of the head until I give in and read them. It’s in the corridors that I really have to be careful. If Louise isn’t with me, I’m fair game, and my hexes have gotten better, but not good enough to take on five or six Slytherins whose parents have all probably taught them basic dark arts.

The other girls in Louise’s dormitory are nice enough to me, but besides Mary and Louise, no one is going to stand up for me outside of that room. It’s natural selection, and they don’t want to be shot down with me, which I try not to take too personally.

Spending so much time in the Hufflepuff dungeons, and so little time in the Great Hall or the corridors, means that I really haven’t seen Martyn at all. I don’t give it a second thought until I consider that he’s probably heard all the same rumors about me, and that I’ll have to face him come summertime.

On the last day of term, I don’t go to the farewell feast - I’m still too afraid. The girls surprise me with dishes in the dormitory, and we all sit together, crisscross on the floor, to drink cider and eat treacle tart. It’s nice that they’re so kind to me, even just within these four walls. I can’t blame them for that, really - for not standing up for me around the rest of the school.

As we finish eating and the sun outside slowly fades beyond the horizon, I find myself wondering if next year will be the same – if I’ll be forced into seclusion by the fear of the other boys in my year and above. I decide then and there that come fourth year, I’m going to sleep in my own dorm, and that if anyone has anything to say about it, I’ll hold my ground. It’s easier said than done, but I figure if I promise myself now, when I’m feeling confidant, I’m more likely to stick to it than if I decide the day before next term.

Now, I suppose, all I have to worry about is facing Martyn.


	11. Phil's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!
> 
> This chapter includes violent scenes surrounding bullying. Please be cautious if that is a traumatic subject to you.

Things with Martyn don’t go over how I expected them to. Once we get off of the train, it’s a whirlwind of finding mum and dad in the crowd, and then the car ride home full of questions about our studies. It’s not just him and me until we’re up in our room in the flat.

“Martyn…” I start as he flops down on his bed, pulling out a comic book.

“Philly, I’ve got a girl,” he says, smiling up at me, his strawberry-blond hair a mess atop his head. I look at him, surprised by the sudden confession.

“Her name’s Cornelia, she’s going to be sixth year next term. She’s incredible.” He throws his hands behind his head, the comic book forgotten on his chest.

“I’m…happy for you,” I say, unsure of whether or not this is him providing an opportunity to confess my own past relationship.

“You’ve got to meet her once we go back. She’s Ravenclaw, and absolutely brilliant with instruments.” He looks whipped over this girl, his cheeks pink just from talking about her. I can’t help but smile at how happy he is.

“I’d love to meet her,” I say, sitting on my own bed and crossing my legs. Martyn takes his eyes from the ceiling to me.

“And look, about all that stuff people have been saying…” My throat constricts as he starts this next sentence, sitting up a bit to get a better look at me.

“Whatever you like in people doesn’t affect me, and it shouldn’t change how other people treat you. Just do whatever makes you happy. And know that you can come to me if you’re having a hard time, yeah?”

I can’t speak for a second, I just nod as Martyn lays back on the bed, starting to ramble more about this Cornelia girl.

I can’t help dreading the approach of Fall term, which of course only makes it approach faster. It feels like I’m going to buy my new school things in just the blink of an eye. Martyn wanders off to meet up with Cornelia, so I end up doing most of the shopping alone, as Louise has fallen ill and had to send her parents to get her things.

Just like Martyn was allowed to get a pet last year, Mum sends me with some extra money so I can pick out one of my own. I settle on a sweet black cat, a couple of years old, that I name Griswold. He’s slender and shy, but when I go up to the cages in the shop, he approaches me immediately, purring the whole time. It was an easy choice, really.

Griswold accompanies me during the rest of my shopping, and just a few days later, Martyn and I are boarding the train back to school. Louise has to miss the first week of courses because she’s so ill. She wrote me a long letter telling me about how she had to stay in St. Mungos, the wizarding hospital, for a few weeks, but that now she’s on the mend, which was a relief to hear.  
I’m determined to stand by my promise to myself – I’m going back to my dorm tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts. And I’m going to stop avoiding the rest of the school. I can’t live my entire life hiding in fear. Hopefully I don’t get hexed too badly in the process.

I walk with Martyn to his dormitory first so I can meet Cornelia, who’s waiting for him outside the Fat Lady. I’ve got Griswold in his cage, and Cornelia is ecstatic over him, poking through the little rails to pet at his face. She seems like a lovely girl, and incredibly bright. It’s sweet to see the way my brother looks at her, as if she’s the brightest light he’s ever seen.

Once I drop Martyn off, I head down towards the dungeons, my back aching from my pack weighing down on my shoulders. Most students are already at the feast at this point, but I can hear people talking up ahead of me as I descend into the dungeons, so I know I must not be the only one who hasn’t fully unpacked. I’m just passing the portrait of fruit that leads to the passageway to the kitchen when suddenly I feel something constrict my ankles and I tumble forward, wincing as my wrist catches at an odd angle underneath me. Griswold’s cage bounces and I hear him shriek as it tumbles away from me.

I can’t sort out what’s happened. It’s as if something tangled around my feet, forcing me to fall onto the cold stone floor. It’s dark down here, but I can make out the voices in front of me getting closer. My stomach drops as I hear Seb’s unmistakable jeer.

“Thought you could just bring your queer ass back here and we wouldn’t know, Lester,” he teases, looking down at me as I struggle to try and get to my feet. I can’t get up – my ankles still feel tied, and I know now that I must have been hexed by one of them while I walked. Griswold is still shrieking from a few feet away, and when I reach out for the cage, one of the other boys, Andrew, kicks it away from me, causing my cat to wail again.

“Please leave him alone,” I say in a small voice. They laugh at me, and my face burns with anger and embarrassment.

“Lookit, boys, asking us for favors. We don’t owe you shit, poofter.” Seb draws back his foot, sinking it hard into my stomach, and his friends laugh from behind him. My abdomen explodes in pain. I’ve never been hit before. He pulls his foot back two more times, then a third, and I curl away from the blows, my cheek covered in dirt from the floor. Seb grabs me by the front of my robes and pulls back his fist. There’s disgusting joy in his eyes as he lands a blow to my jaw that makes my eyes stream. I can taste blood pooling in my mouth from my lip, which has definitely split open. Another one of them hits me hard in the side of the head, causing little lights to pop in front of my eyes. Seb raises me up, shoving me hard against the wall, and I can smell his sour breath as he speaks in a dangerous whisper.

I try to bring myself to fight back. I can feel my wand in the pocket of my robes; I could easily reach for it and send him flying away from me with a simple Stupify curse. But I don’t. I take it, my head slamming against the cinderblock wall as he shakes me.

“It’s going to get much worse for you,” he growls at me. “I didn’t use any of the curses my father taught me. Next time you won’t be so lucky.” He holds me there for a second and I wish he would get off of me, get out of my face. My hands are clenched by my sides, my nails digging hard into my palms, my face so hot it might explode. I force myself to hold his gaze, my eyes still running. I want him to know that I’m not afraid of him.

“Seb, c’mon. Someone might come down,” one of his friends says, shifting from foot to foot nervously. With that, Seb lets go of my robes, allowing me to sink down to the ground as he and his friends ramble off up the corridor. Blood drips from my mouth down onto the front of my robes, but I don’t bother wiping at it. I stay there for a moment, hardly able to breathe, my whole body in shock. It hurts to take air into my lungs, and I wonder if Seb cracked a rib with one of those well-aimed kicks. I crawl back to my dropped bag and scoop up Griswold’s cage, my face still wet with tears.

I don’t go to the feast. I stagger down to the boys’ dormitory and sit on my bed, letting Griswold out of his cage. He’s ruffled and agitated, but still curls up on the end of my bed as I sit there, too sad to even cry.

My first day back, and I’ve already had the worst beating of my life.

The next day, classes start. None of the other boys in my dormitory said anything to me when they came in after the feast. I had the curtains drawn around my bed, and while I could hear them whispering, I shut it out and pretended as though Griswold and I were the only ones in the room.

I sit with Mary at breakfast because Louise hasn’t returned. Her eyes are wide as I sit down in front of her, but I stop her from asking any questions with a single look. I don’t want to talk about it.

I thought about not going to breakfast at all, but I refuse to hide away from Seb and his gang any longer. I can see them bragging to all the other Slytherins about what happened as they eat, Seb smirking as that Bellatrix Black admires the marks on his knuckles that my face left.

I must be quite a sight. My lip is completely busted, and there’s a rich purple bruise blooming down the side of my face from my temple to my cheekbone. That’s nothing compared to the bruises under my robes. When I changed this morning, I left the curtains drawn around my bed so the other boys wouldn’t see. My whole abdomen is a pinwheel of purples and blues, the darkest marks hovering around my extremely sore ribs.

I start with Potions today, with the Slytherins, no less. Without Louise to sit with me, I take a seat by myself at the back table. Not even Mary will associate herself with me much in front of Seb’s gang.

Old Slughorn hobbles in, his great big belly spilling over his pants, “Pair up!” he says cheerfully, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Everyone gets into groups, Seb attaching himself to Daniel and Andrew as a group of three. I stay seated by myself.

I open up my book, looking down the dauntingly long list of instructions as Slughorn begins his spiel. No way I’ll get this done all by myself. I’m going to get a zero for this class, all because nobody wants to sit with a poof.

Slughorn finishes explaining the instructions and conversation erupts around the room. I can hear Seb hollering with his pals, probably about me. My eyes well as I pretend to look down at the page of ingredients in my book, but I’m jarred back to reality by the scraping of the stool next to me. I look up, surprised, to see none other than Daniel Howell, Seb’s best mate, sitting down next to me.

“Okay if I sit here?” he asks in a soft, kind voice. I nod, completely dumbfounded, and my eyes find Seb’s face, which is dark and angry over Daniel’s shoulder. He’s going to risk his entire status by sitting with me, and I can’t imagine why.


	12. Dan's POV

The summer between my 3rd and 4th year was an uneventful one. I spent most of it sleeping, pondering the things I’d done in the last 6 months, and the person I was becoming. The space on the floor between my bedroom door and the bed had become my ultimate resting place. I didn’t come down for dinner. I didn’t leave my room much at all. Not that my parents paid attention. Maybe they didn’t care either way.

Going back to school in August for my 4th year was like a shock to my system. I mean, I had been laying on the floor for 6 weeks, so the fact that I was up, walking around and being forced to learn wasn’t exactly something I was dying to do. I was gifted a tawny brown owl over the break, though, a kind of congratulatory-prize for staying at the top of my class.

To motivate myself, I tried to think of my father, and the knowledge that he was expecting me to bring home come next June, but all I could feel towards him was anger for not asking me once over the summer why I looked like I hadn’t slept in days, or why I wasn’t eating with the family, or just anything at all regarding my general well-being. It felt like each time I went home for the summer I came back to school hating him a bit more. 

The first night back, during the feast, I sit next to two of my dormmates, none of us talking much. I eat quietly, muttering short answers to the questions they ask me about my summer. They probably think I’m being a dick for no reason, but honestly, I just can’t bring myself to even try to act enthusiastic right now.

Especially as I see Sebastian, Andrew and a few of their goons walk through the dining hall doors, a good 15 minutes late to the feast, huge grins on their faces and chucking loudly to each other. This can’t be good.

“Howell! I haven’t seen you since June! What’s up, mate?” Sebastian slaps me on the back, hard and obnoxious, pushing my dormmate on my left to the side in order to squeeze in next to me. Andrew does the same thing to my poor dormmate on the right.

“Nothing much, pondering the meaning of existence. And you?”

“Always so sunny, eh?” Sebastian stuffs his face with dinner rolls and mashed potatoes, and I suddenly feel all of my once insatiable appetite dissipate entirely. 

“Why’re you late?” I say pushing my plate away from me with the tips of my fingers. Andrew takes it upon himself to grab it and finish off what I’d left.

“We just had a little run-in with an old pal before dinner. Can’t imagine he’ll come ‘round tonight though.” Sebastian laughs to Andrew. “Maybe we’ll see him tomorrow.”

I can’t think of any other friends Sebastian has besides his pack of wild dogs and Andrew, but I nod my head anyway, finishing up my glass of water and telling them I’d see them later.

On my way out of the dining hall, Bella runs up to me and gives me a hug from behind.

“Where are Earth have you been, Howell? You barely wrote to me all summer!” I can tell she’s upset, but it also just seems like she’s overly zealous to see me.

“Hey, sorry. Drama at home. How was your summer?” I say, trying to continue walking with her wrapped around my middle like a koala.

“Would’ve been a lot more swell had my boyfriend actually written me back.” She pouts.

I grunt in annoyance and stop walking, turning around to look at her, “Look, Bella, I said I was sorry, okay? What else do you want?” I quickly realize after I speak that my unleash of anger was uncalled for, and that it was coming from somewhere that had nothing to do with her. 

It didn’t matter though. It was too late.

She looks at me like she might cry, and I half expect her to, but then she quickly pulls herself together, like she all of a sudden realized her true emotions were showing. I guess she is a Black. 

“Dick,” she says before walking past me back into the dining hall. I feel my shoulders slump forward as I turn to go to the common room. The last thing I want on top of everything else is for Bella to be mad at me. 

That night I have a dreamless sleep. My room feels colder than last year, and I have to sleep with a sweater over my pajamas, but I kind of like it. Keeping warm gives me something to do.

On the first day of class I wake up far earlier than I need to. It doesn’t start until 10 but by 8 I’ve already showered, fixed my hair and put my uniform on. The common room is busy this morning as everyone is anxious for the first day back, and I’m surprised to see Bella down here, talking to some 3rd years. I walk up behind her and tap her shoulder.

“Hey, can we talk?” I ask. I have no idea what I actually plan to say to her, probably some form of an apology for last night. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the girls she was talking to and telling them she’d just be a minute. They all shoot me rather cold stares. She probably told them what happened.

“What, Daniel?” She seems annoyed. I try not to get angry with her.

“I wanted to apologize for snapping at you yesterday. I’ve just had a long 6 weeks.” It wasn’t a lie; the summer went by painfully slow. Though, I wasn’t busy. I could’ve written her back I just…didn’t want to.

“Yeah, well here’s the thing Dan.” Bella starts, getting a little closer to me. “I’m not the kind of girl you ignore all summer. In fact, I’m not the kind of girl you ignore at all.” 

This doesn’t seem like her, and I look back at the gaggle of girls behind her, all staring intently at us and whispering to each other. She definitely told them, and they have obviously given her their own advice. I feel like I’m in some gross teenage movie. I let her finish.

“I’m better than that, Dan, and I’m not here to wait around for you to feel like talking to me. I have other people who are more than happy to talk to me. Jumping at the chance, even.” 

This should make me feel jealous, it’d make any boyfriend feel jealous, but all I can think of are the butterflies in my stomach as I anxiously await her next words, praying they’re heading in the direction I think they are, as bad of a person as that makes me seem.

“It’s over Dan, I deserve better.” Okay, that hurt a bit, but I know she’s right. I ignored her all summer, I never tried to kiss her, in fact I made a valiant effort to get away from her if I could. And when we did kiss, it wasn’t even her I was thinking about.

I swallow and nod. “Okay, Bella. I understand.”

She looks at me like she’s waiting for me to say something, and when I don’t, she just huffs and walks back to her friends. My heart is beating fast and I look around to make sure no one besides them saw the ordeal go down, and, thankfully, everyone in the room seems to be preoccupied with their own doings.

When I go down for breakfast I’m a bit earlier than the rest of my house. I choose a space in the middle and fill my plate with eggs and toast with plum jam. Halfway through my first piece Sebastian slams down next to me.

“Where’s your sidekick?” I ask, sucking jam off my fingertips.

“Doesn’t matter, our friend is on his way in.” Sebastian has his eyes glued to the entrance of the dining hall, and I look too, just in time to see Phil Lester, a shiny new bruise on his cheek and a cut in his lip.

“What the fuck,” I whisper.

“Caught him in the hall yesterday. Poof was practically fucking begging for it.” Sebastian threw his arm around my shoulders and I feel the sudden urge to set him on fire.

“What the fuck did he do to you?” I’m furious. Phil can’t even look up from the floor long enough to find a seat at his table he’s so goddamn embarrassed, but the kid has to fucking eat.

“Why are you so cross about this? You didn’t seem to care when we were all laughing about it over Christmas.” Sebastian withdraws his arm.

“Have I laughed at one thing you’ve said about that kid? It wasn’t funny to begin with, and now it’s been a good 6 months and you still have no new material to work with.” I look him dead in the face.

“Mate, it’s not a big fucking deal. You’re not even mad, you just feel bad for him. I mean, we all do, honestly, the fucking queer.”

I can’t even speak. I’m so engulfed in rage I think I might boil to death beneath my layers of clothes. 

“Grow the fuck up, Sebastian.” I slide my plate so far across the table that it shatters on the floor. 

Without looking back, I swing my bag over my shoulder and walk as fast as I can out of the dining hall. I can’t bear to look at Phil, and I don’t think I could physically look at Sebastian without beating his face in.

Though, it was almost 9 am at this point, and I’d have to see him in a matter of minutes for Potions anyway. Both of them, considering that class is with the Hufflepuff’s.

I make my way to the Potions room, deciding that sitting outside and waiting for Slughorn to open the door was a better option than running into Bella or Sebastian.

He’d become a right dick ever since Louise broke up with him, not that he didn’t deserve all of it at this point. I wonder how I even attracted a person capable of such hate. Is that really the kind of people drawn to me, the kind who want to be my friends? To other people, those on the outside, do I come across just as cruel and cold as Sebastian? All this time, pushing down the things I truly thought and felt, have I been unintentionally coming across as the person I vowed I’d never be? One like my father. Full of hate. 

I attempt to think of things I genuinely, truly hated, but before I can even come up with one Slughorn cracks open the door to the classroom.

“Eager, are we?” he smiles.

He lets me and a few other students in, and soon enough the room is full of chattering 4th year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.

To my dismay, Sebastian and Andrew sit down next to me, neither of them saying anything. I am more than happy to play the silent game if it means that they’ll shut up for this one class. Slughorn announces that we should pair off into groups and begins passing out papers consisting of instructions and ingredients. 

He begins discussing what exactly we’ll be doing, but I can’t catch it because Sebastian and Andrew are giggling ferociously next to me.

“What the fuck could possibly be so funny?” I whisper through clenched teeth and Andrew practically has a laughing fit.

“Looks like Lester is all alone.” He says.

I look around, spotting Phil a couple rows behind of me to the right. I hadn’t even seen him come in, I assumed he’d skipped.

“Yeah probably because you scared everyone away from him.” I spat.

“Dan, if you like him so much why don’t you go be his partner?” Sebastian laughs like it’s the craziest, most farfetched idea in the world. My stomach seems to rise to my throat.

“Great idea,” I whisper, scooping up my books and wand and making my way over to Phil.

When I pull the stool out Phil practically jumps out of his skin, looking up at me with bright blue eyes. I lean to sit down.

“Okay if I sit here?”

He gives me a silent nod, staring, and I take my seat. He looks even worse this close up. 

We begin working on our potion, mostly in silence, except for when Phil asks me to pass him an ingredient. Usually I would think someone not talking during an activity like this was weird or awkward, but Phil radiates such a kind energy that I don’t even mind if the only words he speaks to me are “eye of newt” and “counter-clockwise stir”. 

When we lock eyes, and we do a few times, I always try and smile. He probably thinks this is a joke we are all playing, like Sebastian sent me over here to torment him, but I want my intentions to come across as genuine. I don’t want him to feel afraid of walking down the hallways of school, especially when it doubles as his home.

I can’t help but keep noticing the cut in his lip, though, and the purple and green swirls of color that make up the bruise on his cheek. I repeat to myself, over and over, not to bring up anything about Seb or the past 6 months or the whole gay fiasco, but before I know it my mouth is open, and I just want him to know how on his side I am.

“I’m really sorry about them. I should’ve said something earlier.” I blurt. Phil stares at me, and I notice his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re kind of green, and there’s a little ring of yellow around his pupil. There were probably a million shades there, though I never think I’d be able to pick out every one of them. He’s still staring. “I just mean- I knew I should’ve, I don’t know why I didn’t. Sometimes I want to say something so bad and I just can’t. Well, I mean, I can, but-“

“It’s okay. You really don’t have to say any of this.” He looks back down at his paper, immediately going back to his work.

Something inside me tells me he thinks I’m only saying this out of my own guilt, and I definitely have plenty of it, but more than anything I genuinely feel sorry for him. I can’t stop looking at him, trying to think of something, anything to say. 

He notices I haven’t continued with the potion and looks sideways at me. “Really, I’m fine. It’s all true anyways, so what does it matter?”

I almost choke. I don’t know why I’m surprised, maybe because people make up crazy rumors all the time? But it’s really true. Phil Lester is gay. I want to ask him about this mysterious fling that supposedly happened between him and whoever he was with over summer, but I know that’s probably the least appropriate question to ask right now. I smile at Phil while he’s still looking at me.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool.” I say.

Phil Lester’s face flushes red and my mouth can’t help but tug up at the sides.

“Well, I’ll say thanks because it’s easier than fighting you on it.” He says aiming his face back down at his paper.

“Or, maybe you just agree that you’re a pretty cool guy.” I nudge his shoulder softly. He gives a small chuckle. 

“Shut up,” he says.

We finish up our potions, turning it into Slughorn at the end of class. On our way out the door Phil reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of my robe.

“Hey, Dan, wait.” I turn around and he takes his hand back quick, like I might’ve moved it myself had it been there a second longer.

“I don’t bite.” I say.

“No, I know I just- sorry.” He seems so defeated. I don’t think my jokes are helping.

“You haven’t done anything.” This time I place my hand on his shoulder, giving him a playful shove. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say thank you, for today.” He starts. “I know you’re probably in some kind of fight with your friends because of it, and I don’t expect this to happen again, but yeah. I don’t know. It meant a lot.” He’s looking at the ground when he finishes.

I don’t really know what to say, so for a second, I don’t say anything. Eventually, he looks back up at me. I give him a small smile.

“Don’t be silly.” I swing my bag over my shoulder and start to head for the door. “See you Wednesday, Lester!” I call back to him, and I swear, right before I leave, I see the faintest of smiles replace all of the worry on his face.


	13. Phil's POV

Louise comes back to school ten days into term. She’s dropped weight since I saw her last, and her skin still has a peculiar translucent glow, but she insists to me that she’s fully healed up.

“I spent the entire summer in bed because of that damn foreign bug I caught. I swear, Philip, if you coddle me, I might just kill you,” she snaps at me as I try to carry her books for her on her second day back. I can’t help but laugh at this; I’ve missed Louise more than anything.

It’s really lucky for me that she’s back, because it means way less taunting from Sebastian and his gang. I think Seb is mostly just afraid of crossing Louise now that their relationship has gone down the drain. I don’t blame him; Lou is scary when she’s angry. When she first saw me, my bruises were over a week old, but they were still as prominent as ever, just green and yellow around the edges. The gash had scabbed up, so I winced as I smiled at her. Her face went stony and I could tell that she knew how I’d gotten the marks without me having to say a word. I know she hasn’t done anything to Seb yet, but every time we see him in the Great Hall, she gets this horrible, scheming look on her face, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s got something up her sleeve.

Things have been surprisingly decent since Louise’s return. Dan’s started sitting with us in Potions, and once in a while he’ll walk with us in the corridors between classes. We don’t see much of him outside of class, only an occasional wave in the Great Hall, but it’s nice just to know there’s another person on the grounds that doesn’t detest me entirely.

He’s the perfect example of a nice person who gets a bad reputation just for being Slytherin. I mean, yeah, it was cruel of him not to step in when Seb was yelling at me last year, but I couldn’t honestly say that I would have acted differently had I been in his shoes. Sometimes it’s hard to speak against someone who appears to have so much power. The important thing is that he stood up when it really mattered, even if it felt a little late to me.

Four days after Louise returns, the first Hogsmeade trip rolls around. I hardly went last year after everything that happened with being outed, so I’m actually excited for this trip.

Louise and I look forward to Hogsmeade all week, and when it’s finally the day of, we bundle up against the harsh fall wind. I wrap a thick yellow scarf around my neck and pull on my black travelling cloak, praying we’ll be able to seek refuge in the Three Broomsticks before it acquires too much of a crowd.

On the way out the gates there’s the sound of crunching leaves behind us, and an out-of-breath Dan appears at my side.

“Hey,” he says through heavy breaths, “mind if I walk with you?” He looks at me with wide brown eyes, his cheeks pink in the cold.

“Of course not,” I reply, bumping my shoulder against his and grinning. “We’re thinking Honeydukes and then maybe the Three Broomsticks, sound good?”

“Brilliant,” he replies. Dan’s got a mop of brown curls peeking out from beneath a green knitted cap, and they fall into his eyes a bit as he walks, making him scrunch his nose as they tickle his face. And he’s got tiny freckles under his eyes.

We speed up as we get to Honeydukes, “I can already taste those Fizzing Whizbees!” Louise squeals, running up ahead of us to the pink doors of the shop.

We hurry inside, sighing in relief at the steamy heat within the building. Louise, Dan, and I disperse to separate corners, all returning back to the center with our arms laden in sweets. Dan’s already sucking on a red lolli. He pulls it from his mouth, and I watch him lick his chapped lips before darting my eyes away when I realize what I’m doing. I feel flustered, and I can’t figure out why.

“Got anything good?” He asks me, the lolli back in his mouth as he grins.

“Oh, um, yeah! I even grabbed a chocolate frog for Martyn ‘cause they’re his favorite and he had too much homework to come himself.”

“I would live here if I could,” Louise sighs, her eyes on the shelves of sweets surrounding us. “What a life that’d be.” I laugh a little and Dan rolls his eyes as we join the queue of students waiting to pay.

As soon as we leave the shop, Louise gets wrapped up in conversation with a couple of Ravenclaw girls that I don’t know.

“You two won’t be upset if I go with them to see those new dress robes, will you?” she asks, and even though I assure her I don’t mind, something in my stomach squirms. Dan and I haven’t really spent time together outside of class, and I’ve got no clue what we’re going to talk about.

“Alrighty, see you, boys,” she calls, turning on her heel with the other girls and marching away down the street. It’s just us now.

“So…er….butterbeer?” I ask, internally cringing at how awkward I come across, but Dan doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles at me and leads the way to the Three Broomsticks through the steadily thickening crowd of students.

We manage to get a small table in one of the back corners of the bar, two hot butterbeers on the table in front of us. Everything’s fine until we sit down, and I suddenly realize that I have no idea what to say.

We both open our mouths at the same time to talk and I laugh, relaxing a bit, “You go ahead,” I insist, sipping from my butterbeer and wiping the foam from my mouth.

“I was just going to ask, did your parents go to Hogwarts?”

I bite my lip for a second. This is a high-up pureblood kid I’m talking to, and I can’t decide if it’s a good idea to reveal that my parents are Muggles. I hesitate for another moment before deciding there’s no point lying to Dan. If he doesn’t care that I like blokes, surely he won’t care about my bloodline either.

“My parents are actually both Muggles,” I say, sipping from my mug again while I watch his expression carefully, “but my brother goes here. He’s a year up. Gryffindor.”

Dan groans and I feel my hands start to sweat, “Oh gosh, Gryffindor? You’re killing me, Lester.” 

I can’t help but laugh at this, my nerves completely fading, “Hey, just further proof that I’m the superior brother, if you ask me.” At this, Dan smiles even wider, sipping on his own butterbeer, not bothering to wipe the foam mustache on his upper lip.

“My question was actually about family, too,” I say.

“Oh?”

“All of the Howell’s are Slytherin, right? You’re upholding that good old family tradition,” I say it in a teasing way, but I can see something in his face change.

“Uh, yeah…we’re all Slytherin.”

There’s a beat of silence before he looks back up at me with his wide eyes, his smile returning. “We can’t all have that level of prestige,” he says in a jokingly pretentious tone, his voice lowering an octave. “Yeah, us Howell’s, we’re pretty intimidating.”

“Well, both my parents are accountants, so that’s pretty easy to top.”

I spend a good twenty minutes trying to explain to Dan what accountants do. He can’t wrap his head around a system where goblins don’t manage money. I’m fascinated by the idea of being brought up in a wizarding family, so I spend a lot of the afternoon bombarding him with silly questions about how he was raised, while he does the same to me.

“You mean your parents never read you The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” Dan says, slightly exasperated.

“Dan, I grew up strictly on Dr. Seuss.”

“You mean doctors waste their time writing children’s books in the Muggle world?”

At that, I snort so hard that butterbeer comes out of my nose.

We leave a little while later to find Louise, and it isn’t long after that before we’re all returning to the castle together, our noses and fingertips turning to ice in the autumn chill. Louise is laden down with bags. She tells us that she needed a bit of “post-illness shopping” to revitalize her spirit, and I don’t argue, as she got me a rather nice new quill for note taking. Once up at the castle, we walk together into the Great Hall.  
“Well, this is my stop,” Dan says, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. I almost ask if he wants to sit with us, but I catch myself. The houses rarely mix at meals, and I definitely don’t want to put him in a position where he’s going to get teased.

“It was really nice getting to hang out with you today. Thanks for coming with us,” I say, smiling at him.

“No, I mean, thank you guys. For taking me along. It was really fun.”

He’s blushing now, a steady pink burning beneath those tiny freckles of his. He raises his hand in a final wave and then departs toward the Slytherin table, which is a sea of green.

I think I’d like to have a lot more days like this with him.


	14. Dan's POV

Christmas sneaks up on me this year. Suddenly everyone is talking about things they plan to do while they’re home; most of this involves snogging whoever it is they’re currently hooking up with.

Phil’s talked all week about getting to spend quality time with his parents and family dog, sitting around their television and watching old Christmas specials. He doesn’t bring up the boy from last summer, and I don’t dare to ask if snogging is on his list as well. Though I don’t fully know why, I think I’m too scared to know.

To my dismay, I’m met at my front door, first day of Christmas break, with a very angry looking father.

“Father,” I start, trying to get through the front door but he blocks me.

“Sebastian’s father sent an owl.” He says.

Shit, shit, shit. If Sebastian is anything like how I think he is, he’ll have told his father I’m just a big of a “poof” as Phil. Me, the eldest of one of the most powerful Slytherin families. A Howell.

“Daniel, I thought I raised you better than to associate with Mudbloods. What kind of family do you think I’m trying to run?”

So not about the gay thing then, just about something else Phil can’t change about himself.

I scoff at him. “Run. You say it like we’re a fucking business.” I push past him into the foyer, but he immediately grabs me by my sleeve. I whip around to look at him.

“Do not use that language with me. Do you know how embarrassing it’ll be if that information gets around? That my son, my son-“

“Is what, Dad? Actually making friends? All the Pure-blooded kids are assholes, they’re all stuck up and closed off, it’s practically impossible to talk to them! Why can’t you just be happy I made friends who’re actually nice and loyal?”

“Why can’t you just behave as you’re meant to?! I ask one thing of you and it’s to uphold our family name! Is it so hard to-“

“What do you think I’ve been doing since I walked in those castle doors?! All I’ve done since I was eleven was work to make you proud and it still isn’t enough! It’ll never be enough because you-“

“Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking to you.” He rushes up to me, his face inches from mine. I can feel the spit leave his mouth and land on my cheeks as he yells directly at me. “You are pathetic, Daniel, honestly. I practically drew out a path to success for you and you’re too thick to even understand it. You’re too soft, too easily distracted.”

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to, since the moment I had a wand in my hand. I’ve been nothing but obedient. Hell, you won’t even tell me who’s walking in and out of our house summer after summer. Do you know what the kids at school say about that? Do you want to know the things they whisper about when they think I can’t hear?”

“Don’t you want to be seen as powerful? Don’t you want to be respected?” he ignores me completely.

“What, like you?” I don’t dare let my poker face falter, no matter how badly his words sting. 

“What are you saying, boy?”

I think for a moment before proceeding. I know what my father is capable of, but whether or not I want to be on the other side of one of his hexes is the decision I have to make. Well, I’ve come this far.

“How does it feel, being that powerful, when your wife doesn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as you?”

For a moment, he is speechless. Then he grabs the side of my face in his hand, walking the both of us all the way back until my cheek meets the cold, firm wall. I feel what’s left of the air in my lungs leave quickly, like it’s too scared to see what comes next. 

“You don’t know half of what I’m capable of, boy.” He gets closer to my ear, and I swear if I had the strength to do so, I’ve break free and punch him right in the face, over and over until my hand was nothing but bone. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking you know your father.” 

He holds my face against the wall for a moment longer, before letting go and disappearing out the door from which I came.

I stand there for a moment, feeling helpless, like a fucking child, before picking up my things and hastily making my way to my bedroom.

When I’ve dropped my things and placed my caged owl on my desk, I undress quickly and move to the shower. If I was going to cry, no one was ever going to have the chance to hear it. 

I let the scolding hot water beat down against the skin of my back, the sting almost as strong as the one behind my eyes. My sobs seem almost uncontrollable, and I feel there’s so much emotion welling up inside me I hardly know how to contain it.

I start banging my fist against the wall slowly, but the harder I cry, the more rapid the hits become, until the pain is numbed out completely and I’ve lost momentum.

I hate him, I hate myself, I hate being here. 

To think making it into Slytherin would satisfy all of his wants for me was completely childish and naïve. How could I have ever been so stupid? Nothing I ever did was ever going to be enough for him. I could wait on him hand and foot and he’d still tell me I wasn’t loyal, that I’d never be the son he needed me to be. I’m not what he wanted. To him, I was no body.

My father didn’t speak to me the rest of break. In fact, he actively avoided me, even leaving rooms when I walked in. When I went back to school in January, he didn’t even come out of his room to say goodbye. Not that I cared. If I had it my way, I’d never have to see him again.


	15. Phil's POV

It’s really wonderful seeing Mum and Dad over break. We spend Christmas having movie marathons and downing bucket loads of peppermint bark. When it’s time to go back to school, I almost get a tear in my eye as I hug them goodbye.

On the train ride back, I have a fluttering excitement pitted somewhere deep in my stomach. I can’t wait to get to school. I’ve actually missed my classes, and since Louise and I have been spending more time with Dan, I almost feel comfortable socially at the castle.

I run into Dan as soon as I’m back. I’m just coming up from the dungeons, keen on looking for Louise up on her favorite seventh-floor corridor, when I catch him on the stairs going down.

“Dan!” I call, slightly breathless as he nearly walks right past me. His head snaps up and for a second his eyes wander over me as if we’re strangers, but it’s only a moment before his face splits in a grin.

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning to walk with me up through the entrance hall. When we come into the well-lit room, I feel my stomach clench a little. He looks unwell. Dan’s usually wide, bright eyes look as though they’ve receded into his head, the tops of his cheeks dusted in tired purple bags. His lips are more chapped than usual, and it looks like he’s been biting them badly. Even his cheeks, which are usually full and pink and freckled have hollowed out a bit. I wonder if he’s been eating enough while at home.

“Er, had a good break?” I try, hoping he hasn’t noticed my lingering gaze. Dan nods, giving me short and concise answers, a lack of sincerity behind his tone. We’re just making it through the fifth-floor corridor when I suck in a breath and grab Dan’s arm, turning him back the way we came.

“Phil, wha-“ he says, looking around, confused.

“Seb,” I answer under my breath, my hand still locked on his arm as I wheel him back toward the staircase, but it’s no use, the stairs have already moved to the other landing. I drop Dan’s arm, letting out a groan. I’m helpless against Seb and his cronies without Louise here to deter him. I slide my right hand into my robes, my thumb brushing my wand as I turn around.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t queer one and queer two,” Seb says, swaggering to a halt a few feet away from us. He’s got two boys with him, one I don’t know and the other that kid from before, Andrew. My temper flares as he addresses us, my anger growing as he drags Dan into this.

“Your father get any interesting post over break, Howell?” Seb asks, and I can feel Dan’s whole body tense next to me. I don’t know what Seb means by this, but I’m assuming there’s been problems between them since we last left school. A part of me feels hurt that Dan didn’t tell me about it, but I brush that thought away.

“What?” The word comes out of Dan as more of a hiss than a word at all and I peer at him from the sides of my eyes. His face is a flaming red, and I’ve never seen his eyes so dark.

“I think you heard me,” Seb drawls, leaning against the stone wall, his wand held tauntingly in his meaty hand. “Did my father’s note find its way to yours? The one about you spending all your time with a Mudblood poof?”

My head pulses with the slurs, each one nailing me in the chest like a dagger. I’ll never get used to that.

Before I even have a chance to fully process what’s happening, Seb’s on the ground, blood pouring from his nose like a faucet. Dan’s shaking his hand, cursing quietly under his breath as Andrew draws his wand.

Seb screams an incantation through the blood running into his mouth, and Dan retaliates, his face looking full for the first time since I saw him today. Their spells collide in midair, sparks showering down around us; both of Seb’s friends duck. Blood is pumping hard through my ears, and I feel electricity run up my hands as I watch Dan, his face set and determined. I draw my own wand just as Dan starts another incantation.

“PROTEGO!” I yell, and a barrier, one larger and stronger than anything I’ve ever managed to produce, erupts from my wand, standing steadily with Dan and I on one side and Seb and his crew on the other. There’s a moment where we all stay staring at each other, unsure of where things are going to go, but then Seb wipes at his face aggressively, breaking the silence.

“You’re fucking dead. Both of you,” he growls before turning away and stalking back down the corridor. I let my wand arm fall, suddenly feeling drained as the shield charm vanishes. I push my hair back, still trying to figure out just how exactly I was able to summon so much magic. I’m pulled out of my head by Dan’s groan from beside me.

“I think I broke a finger,” he says, his voice slightly strained and a little too high. I move to take his hand to look at it and he yanks it away sharply, his eyes snapping up to mine.

“I know the charm to mend bones. I was just going to…” I start, letting the sentence die as I catch his icy gaze.

After looking at me for another moment, he nods, visibly relaxing. I take his hand back into mine, holding it as lightly in my palm as possible. I draw my wand again.

“This might sting for a moment,” I say, looking up at him and waiting until he nods his head to do anything. “Episkey!” I say, pointing at the crooked finger, and it locks back into place with a small pop.

Dan takes his hand from mine quickly, bending and straightening his fingers as he looks at his hand, “Thanks,” he says shortly, and I nod in response.

“Had some trouble with him over the holidays?” I say, trying to break the weird tension that’s now thick between us.

Dan doesn’t look up at me, still acting like he’s looking at his hand, and I feel as though I’ve done something wrong.

“You could say that. It doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively, and I take the cue that he’s not keen to talk about it.

“Well…I’m sorry I got you dragged into this stuff,” I say, feeling incredibly awkward.

I feel worse as he drops his hand and replies, “Yeah,” before glancing back over his shoulder. I think I’m starting to get it. He’s afraid being associated with me will mean he’ll get slapped with the “gay” label as well. He’s probably realized he shouldn’t have buddied up with me in the first place. I can’t blame him.

“I’m pretty sure I forgot to lock my owl’s cage, so I’m going to head back down to the dorms,” he says, still not looking directly at me. I think that’s the sorriest excuse to leave that I’ve ever heard. I feel as though I’ve swallowed a block of ice as I force a smile.

“Alright, then. See you around.”

He doesn’t answer, raising a hand instead in a half-hearted acknowledgement as he turns to go. I watch him mount the stairs back toward the lower floors, my whole chest tight. 

My nails dig into my palms as I stand there, my heart still racing. My entire body feels hot, and I can hear the blood in my head. Everyone takes my attraction to blokes so personally, as if it’s just a massive inconvenience that I’ve forced up on them. They think I’d choose this for myself, as if I’d ever in a million years want to feel like this. As if I’d ever want to feel a way that made me so unwanted.


	16. Dan's POV

I feel bad for leaving Phil, but in my haze of aggravation I just couldn’t help it.

Queer. Sebastian practically spat it at me, and it stung like venom. No one had ever, until this moment, called me any kind of gay slur. I can’t say it felt great, and I don’t know how Phil absorbs them every day. I know Sebastian doesn’t actually think I’m gay, or, at least, I don’t think he does, but for some reason hearing that word in relation to myself instilled a form of panic I just can’t seem to control.

I tried to kindly avoid Phil as best I could during the first week, if there was a way to kindly avoid someone. I waved to him in passing but didn’t seek him out to spend any time with him. After a few days though the loneliness was practically suffocating and I decided I’d rather ignore Sebastian than Phil, even if it meant I’d have to suffer through a few slurs. I could whine about it later.

On the way to Care of Magical Creatures on Wednesday, Phil, Louise and I walk together across the grounds. Phil and Louise were invested in a conversation about some girl in their house who accidentally jinxed herself to sneeze whenever she says a word that begins with a vowel, and I’m only half listening as I stare at the laces on my shoes. They’re clean, much cleaner than Phil’s, I notice as we walk. I also notice that he’s wearing two different colored socks. I smile.

“It’s ridiculous, though! How one manages to mess up so badly, I’ll never understand.” Louise giggles.

“Hey, I was just as bad at turning rats into teaspoons. Remember- oh, man.” Phil stops midsentence, dropping his bag on the ground and rummaging through it.

“I think I forgot my copy of Fantastic Beasts.” Phil whines, practically emptying out his entire bag onto the ground.

Louise rolls her eyes but keeps a smile. “You’re too much. Better run, Lester, class starts in 15 minutes.” 

“Uhh, okay. Okay, right, you guys stay right here I promise I’ll be right back.” Phil darts towards the castle, abandoning his emptied bag and all of its contents.

I crouch down and begin to pack up his things, and Louise sighs.

“Sometimes I wonder how he manages at all.” She says, fondness lacing her voice. No matter how much of a handful Phil tends to be, I can tell their bond is strong. I often find myself wishing I had someone that fond of me.

“Hey, Lou, I have kind of… a strange question.” I say, forcing myself to focus on neatly fitting Phil’s loose scrolls and books back into his bag and not on Louise’s face.

“This conversation is making me anxious. Do continue, though.”

I don’t say anything for a moment, trying to meticulously plan what exactly I want to say.

“I didn’t want to ask around Phil. I didn’t wanna be…I don’t know. Disrespectful, I guess. Plus, I’m not sure if he’d even answer honestly.” I say.

“Howell, if you don’t get to the point I might break into panic.” 

I try to laugh, but my heart is beating so hard I can practically feel it in my lips. “Back when all this stuff about Phil was being thrown around, you know, about him being gay, there was this…rumor, I guess.” I feel so stupid. There’s no good reason I should even want to know this kind of information, and Louise is probably thinking I’m some sort of nosey stalker.

“About that Jaspar kid?” Louise finishes my thought.

“So, he has a name.” I say, finishing up packing Phil’s things, leaving no excuse for me not to stand up and look at Louise.

“It was the summer after third year. Some guy who lived across the way. Painted Phil, or something real swoon-worthy like that. Why do you ask?”

“Was it, like, serious?”

“What do you mean?”

Fuck, I’m asking too much. I feel the suspicion in her voice, lurking like a dark shadow, and the logical side of me wants to drop the entire conversation right there. But my curious side is in charge today.

“Were they, like, together?” I wish I could close my eyes and disappear, but I just have to know. I don’t know why, but if I don’t ask now I never will, and it’ll creep up on me in moments I least expect it too, and I’d rather blurt these things to Louise than to Phil.

“Well, from what he’s told me, he’s definitely had more willy than I have.” She laughs, and my stomach sinks to my feet. “I think they mostly just wanked each other though.”

“Whoa- that’s, I, that isn’t what I meant.” I can barely form words around what feels to be a cinderblock in my throat. Louise seems confused.

“Oh, what did you mean?”

“I meant were they boyfriends. Not-“

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry. Um, no? I think it was just a summer thing. Actually, I’m fairly certain, since Phil hasn’t mentioned him at all since we got back that September.”

I nod slowly. “Right, okay.” I stand there, staring down at my laces again, urging my next question to stay in the corner of my brain from which it originated, but it was like trying to put a plaster over a running faucet.

“So, they had sex?” the minute it leaves my mouth I wish I could pick it back up in my hands and eat it, chew it until it was powder and then swallow it down, down, down until it was nothing but mush. But the damage was done. 

“Oh, no, just blowjobs and wanking, I think. Phil’s got that innocent mindset, you know, the whole ‘I want it to be special’ thing. It’s really sweet.”

Something resembling relief washes over me, but not enough to take the stickly jealous feeling with it. I imagine myself as Lady Macbeth later on when I’m alone, shouting, “Out, damned spot!” to every disgusting twinge my brain makes my body feel when I replay this conversation, thinking of Phil messing around with some bloke. 

It makes no sense. I can’t decide why these thoughts and feelings were doing laps through my head. It’s not that I haven’t done anything, I know that. I couldn’t care less about body counts or experience, not really. It was more the fact that Phil had done it, and with someone who I couldn’t even put a face to. What did he look like? Was he short, tall? Was he lanky, was he brunette? Did he have curls? Did Phil run his hands through his hair?

A flash of long fingers and honey-brown curls crosses my mind, and I can’t help but replace the face of Sirius kissing his boyfriend with Phil’s. My stomach clenches, along with my fist. I wasn’t done with my questions.

“Did he-“ I begin, but it’s too late. Phil is hollering at us from across the grounds, waving us down, textbook in hand.

I swallow my question whole, and cast my eyes from Louise to Phil. He’s wearing a giant grin, his cheeks tinted pink from running, and before I know it there’s so much gut-wrenching irritation in my chest that I have to turn away.

It isn’t necessarily his fault, I know that. I had no right to be angry with Phil, he can do whatever he chooses with whomever he chooses. And yet, for the rest of the day, I can’t bear to look at him when he talks to me, because if I did, I was plagued with the view of his lips, and the fact that they’d been all over someone else’s.

And all over other things, but today was not the fucking day for that.


	17. Phil's POV

Something changes with my friendship with Dan during the second half of term. He goes from joking with me and talking nonstop to being strange and distant, always appearing to be in a mood of some kind. I can’t sort it out, and it only seems to be around me. Whenever I approach him and Louise when they’re alone, he’s his normal, extroverted self. He’ll be laughing and goofing off, and as soon as I join in on the conversation, it’s like a switch flips.

I don’t know what I did.

By the time exams are on the horizon, I can feel the constant question bubbling in my stomach, threatening to escape my mouth whenever we’re alone together. “What have I done to make you hate me,” hovers on the tip of my tongue, but it always gets stuck somewhere around my molars before I can really spit it out.

I decide to stay at the castle during the last Hogsmeade trip. Louise pesters me all day about going with her, but I feel so unprepared for exams that I finally get her to lay off. I don’t even realize Dan has stayed behind too until I see him heading out to the lawn with his books.

“Dan,” I call, speeding to catch up with him before he leaves through the massive oak doors. “Wait up!”

He stops, turning to look at me, and there it is. I can see the change in his face. It’s like a brick wall goes up, and the hardening in his eyes nearly winds me.

“Do you mind if I come out with you?” I ask, and my voice sounds small and childlike. He shrugs, resuming his walk out the door.

“Are you studying Charms too?” I ask, glancing at the books in his arms, and he nods in response. I feel something flare up in my chest, but I don’t say anything.

“I’m feeling okay about everything except Potions. No matter what I do, I always mix up the steps for Amortentia. I can never remember if I’m supposed to do four clockwise turns before I add the lacewing flies, or if it’s after.”

“After,” he replies shortly, and the fuse in my chest pops.

“Look,” I say, and my voice is sharp as I grab his arm, not meaning to do it so harshly. He stops as I swing him around to look at me. “Can you tell me what your problem with me is? What the hell did I do?”

He looks at me, his stare cool and calculating, and I want to slap it off of his face. He can’t even give me the decency to meet my eyes. I stand there, waiting for a response that never comes.

“Bloody great,” I say, brushing past him harshly and starting back to the castle. I can take the rumors spread behind my back. I can even take Seb and his fucking slurs. But I can’t handle being blatantly hated by someone I want to call my friend.  
“Phil.” Dan’s voice is soft, almost warm, from behind me, and I hesitate for a second before stopping, my head hanging forward a little.

“What,” I say, not turning around to look at him. I can feel tears starting in my eyes, and I know my face has got to be splotchy from anger.

“Will you turn around for a sec,” his voice is still low as he says the words, and I get the impression he doesn’t want anyone else to hear us. That only pisses me off more. I turn around fast, surprised to find him just a step behind me.

“Do I offend you?” I blurt out, raising my eyes to find his despite the fact that I know he’ll be able to see how upset I am there.

“What?” he asks, clearly caught off guard by my behavior.

“Do. I. Offend. You. What’s your problem with me?” I say, my teeth gritted as I push out the words. I hate this, and I hate him for making me ask.

“What- no, Phil. Why would you – of course I don’t have a problem with you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

Dan ducks his head as a group of witches pass by, their eyes lingering on us curiously. I scoff at him, moving to turn away, but he grabs at my hand.

“Can you just hang on for a second so I can talk to you?” he asks, impatience seeping into his voice, and I laugh coldly, pulling my hand away from him like it’s hot.

“Why? You’re so fucking embarrassed to be seen around me, why don’t I make it easier for you and just go.”

He looks up at me, shock and confusion etched clearly on his face, and my chest roars with happiness at the hurt I see there. I hope it hurts him.

“What are you even talking about?” he asks, still sounding confused. 

“Ever since that stuff happened with Seb, you’ve been a complete arse to me.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. He shifts uncomfortably, twiddling with his fingers before shoving them deep into his pockets.

“I’m not…that’s not about you, Phil. It really isn’t.” As he speaks, he finally raises his eyes up to mine and I can see something sad there.

“Then why are you being so cold to me?” I drop my arms as I say this, and I’m surprised by the hurt in my own voice. He’s quiet for a moment, looking like he’s thinking over his words carefully.  
“I have…a lot of, um, stuff with my family right now,” he starts, and I frown a little, not sure where he’s going. “I don’t – I mean, I’m not-“ he sighs in frustration, trying to find the words.

“Dan, it’s okay,” I say quietly, “you don’t have to explain it all to me. I was just…confused as to why you were taking it out on me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s really not about you.” He says it so earnestly I almost believe him.

The rest of the time we have before term goes over far better. Dan warms up, little by little he seems to go back to his usual self. He even tells me a bit about his family. I hadn’t realized how little they all got along. I suppose I always pictured the great pureblood families as perfect and pristine, but from what Dan says, it’s all much more of a mess. Apparently, his brother starts next year, and Dan doesn’t sound excited at all. I think his father pits them against one another, which sounds horrible to me.

I make Dan and Louise both promise that they’ll write me over summer. I get so bored on my own in the Muggle world. Louise says she’ll visit if she can find time around her family travelling, and I don’t bother asking Dan, because I know his parents would never allow it.

Exams go over well – with Dan’s help I’m able to prepare for Potions and scrape by with a decent enough grade. On the last day of term, I’m actually pretty sad to be heading home.

“I’ll see you guys in the Fall,” I say, stepping off of the train at King’s Cross, my eyes scanning the crowd for Martyn. I have Griswold on a leash trotting beside me, and I yank him back as he bats at Dan’s owl in its cage, making it hoot and glare.

“Bye, Philly!” Louise says, planting a wet kiss on my cheek and rambling off into the crowd toward her parents.

“See you,” I say to Dan, feeling a bit awkward, but he surprises me, pulling me into a hug.

“Don’t get into too much trouble over the Summer,” he says, grinning at me as he pulls away.

“Yeah, right. You know what a wild one I am. Don’t forget to write!”

Dan laughs a little and waves as he spots his own family. I can see a tall, haughty-looking woman with a young boy who’s the striking image of Dan in first year. It looks like his father didn’t bother coming.

I pull Griswold along, who’s busy hunting bugs, as I spot Martyn entangled in an embrace with Cornelia. I can’t wait to be back here in September, and until then, I hope my friends at least write.


	18. Dan's POV

When I get home that summer my father doesn’t show his face once the entire first week. It was annoying enough, him not coming to the train station, but when I’ve spent a week in the house and haven’t even seen the slightest evidence that he’s even alive, I start to get a little annoyed. Eventually, it irks me so much that I ask my mother where on Earth he spends his time if he’s not walking about the house, and why it’s so important to him that he not see me. 

“He’s not in London, Daniel. This has nothing to do with you.” She doesn’t meet my gaze, her eyes focused on cutting carrots into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

“He’s- where is he?” I demand. He doesn’t talk to me all of Christmas, doesn’t write to me all of Spring, and when he disappears no one thought to let me know.

“It doesn’t concern you. He’s on a trip. He’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure.”

Anger boils up inside me and I think for sure steam is erupting from my ears. “Do you even know? Or are you just as clueless as the rest of us?”

Her eyes shoot daggers at me then, and I can tell I’ve crossed a line. I don’t even care.

“At 15 years old you think you’d have learned by now how to show some respect.” She practically hisses. My mother didn’t usually get angry, in fact she usually didn’t get much of anything, but I can tell from her reaction that I am right. She has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, at least not all of it, and it’s pissing her off just as much as it is me.

And, yet, I can’t help but prod more at the situation at hand. “You think at 50 he’d have learned to inform people about his whereabouts, especially his wife, who’s obviously worried sick.” 

I know she’s not blind; she can see the dark purple brushed under her eyes as clear as I can. She’s paler than usual and looks like she hasn’t eaten in days. She’s barely hanging on. Either she has no idea where he is and what he’s doing, or she’s making herself sick because she does.

“Go to your room, Daniel. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the evening.”

I almost laugh. “Don’t lie,” I mutter as I make my way upstairs. “You people don’t want to see me at all.”

*

That night in my room, I receive my first letter from Phil. It’s delivered by a white owl that I don’t recognize, quite the opposite from my dark brown one. I thank the owl and take the letter to my bed.

Dear Dan,

I hope your first week of summer has gone over smoothly. Currently I am debating with Martyn over which of us can get the highest score in Space Invaders, and I’m proud to say that I’m completely annihilating him. 

I feel silly for never having asked before, but what’s your favorite arcade game? Do take your time with answering as I will weigh it fairly heavily and it may make or break this friendship we’ve created.

I’m so bored here in the Muggle world it’s almost tear-inducing, like I might break down any minute from not being able to use magic. Do you ever get that tingly feeling in your arms whenever you don’t have your wand on you? It’s weird, like my body knows I’m not allowed to use it so it tries to tempt me. I don’t know, maybe I’m weird. Well, weirder.

Anyways, I just wish I had someone to hang out with. Is it weird to be 15 and love sleepovers? Like, where you stay up all night and watch horror movies and eat popcorn. My parents hate horror movies, like when the Exorcist came out, I begged them to let me see it and I got a stern talking to about how 8-year-olds weren’t supposed to watch movies about children getting possessed. And now, here I am, a full teenager and The Shining is playing at every theater within a 5-mile radius from me, and I’m stuck at home with my cat. 

Maybe next summer, when I’m 16, they’ll be less strict with me. Do you have a favorite horror movie? Or maybe you’re one of those weirdos who hates horror, in which case, like the video game answer I might have to retract my offer of friendship.

Write back soon, okay? I’ve practically gone mad here and it’s only been 7 days.

Phil

I don’t have a clue what Exorcists and Space Invaders are, so most of the letter doesn’t make that much sense to me. Regardless, I’m excited that he’s written at all, and in my eagerness to reply I immediately fish out a scroll and a spare quill. He probably wouldn’t get the letter until tomorrow, but that just means he’ll have something to wake up to.

Phil,

My week has been okay. My dad is on some sort of mysterious trip that I don’t know about, and I guess you could say it’s causing some anxiety. Sometimes I can’t help but worry about him, even though I know he’s not thinking about me. I try not to, though. It’s easier to hate him than worry.

And look, mate, we didn’t all grow up around Muggles, so when you say things like Space Invaders and The Shining, I’ve got fuck all clue of what you’re talking about. I’ll go ahead and say though that I’m quite positive we would have the same taste in movies and video games, so I’ll take your word for whatever you say is superior.

I know the tingly feeling, by the way. It’s kind of like the feeling they say you get after you lose a limb, but it feels like it’s still there. Though, you are a weirdo in other ways.

I don’t think there really is an age where sleepovers stop being fun. I guess for some people they’re never enjoyable to begin with, but there’s something comforting about sharing a bed with someone, platonic or otherwise. And you know the vibe that a sleepover gives off? It’s kind of like you never want the night to end because you and whoever you’re with are so detached from actual reality that the idea of “tomorrow” seems monstrous. 

To answer your question, no it’s not weird, and I obviously have some sort of sleepover fetish.

Dan

I tie the letter to the leg of the white owl before sending it off into the inky sky.

I try not to spend too much time thinking about how Phil wishes he had someone to hang out with and how he’s allowed to go out and seek someone. We live a good few hours away from each other, and there’s no way I could see him outside of Hogwarts anyway. Not with my parents’ approval. He could be out with someone right now, sharing all his favorite movies with them, showing them how to play video games.

The sticky, tar-like feeling rises back up into my chest, feeling like hot glue. My heart speeds up and I try to close my eyes and breathe. This is ridiculous. I don’t care what Phil does in his time away from school, and I never felt like this when we were there. Maybe it’s because I saw him every day. Or because when we’re there, I know exactly what he’s up to, and here, in my dark bedroom in the middle of the night, I’m fucking clueless. 

I shake my head hard, hoping it will rattle the thoughts out of my brain before I have to decode them. I’d rather not think. I just want to sleep.

Turns out sleep was the one thing I shouldn’t have done that night.

As I laid in bed trying to rid my mind of Phil laughing with someone else hundreds of miles away, it seems as though his face slipped it’s way right into my unconscious, like right before I could close the door separating the real world from my dream one, he shimmied through the crack. And then he was trapped.

In my dream I sit on the edge of my four-poster back at Hogwarts. The room around me is still, but I can hear rustling on the other side of the curtain closing off my bed area. I feel fuzzy, like I’ve had one too many fire whiskeys, and suddenly the curtain is being pulled to the side, and Phil steps inside. He’s wearing his white uniform button up, and black slacks. 

“Waiting for me?” He asks, smiling. 

Is that what I’m doing? Did I know he was coming?

“Patient as ever.” I answer. I notice I’m wearing the same thing as Phil, but I’ve got my robe on top.

“It’s late, Dan. You should probably get to sleep.” Phil says, though he’s walking towards my bed, and something tells me he’s just saying what he thinks he should, his voice void of candor.

My words get stuck in my throat, and my voice comes out smaller than I mean it to when I reply, “It’s not that late.” I wish I could put the words back in my mouth; it’s probably the least sensual thing I could’ve said, and the walls of the room were practically dripping in tension. I feel like a kid.

“What, you not tired?” Phil sits on the bed next to me.

“Not a bit.” We lock eyes. He smirks, and even though I’ve never seen it in real life, I’m almost certain it would be just as attractive in reality as it is here in my unconscious state.

“I can change that.”

Before I can ask him how he intends to do so, he’s got one leg on either side of me, pushing me back onto the bed with one swift jolt. When my back hits the mattress it feels like my chest explodes with butterflies, leaving room for more cocoons to make their home, creating a never-ending cycle of nerves. My stomach reacts with that pleasant drop feeling, the kind you receive when you descend quickly from being high up. I feel alive with electricity. 

I wait for him to say something.

“Are you scared?” Phil breathes.

“Oh, cause you’re so intimidating.” I smile. Phil laughs. I’ve heard it so many times that it’s committed to my memory; even in my dream it’s as silky as ever.

“I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do.” Phil says, leaning down to scatter hot kisses along my jaw. I say hot as in temperature, but in others way too, as I can clearly tell by the way my pants grow tighter. I’m too close to him, absolutely no space between us, and the feeling of his body against mine washes over my entire brain. I can’t help but notice that he’s grown hard too, right against my leg.

“Show me, then.” I whisper, and Phil stops momentarily to look at me. I stare at his mouth, soft and pink, even in the low-lit room. He looks heavenly.

He leans in slowly, and I can feel his breath on my lips, millimeters from connecting our two hungry mouths, and I feel my entire body ignite before-

“DAN!” 

I sit straight up, knocking my head against something hard.

“Fuck, shit- Adrian?” I look at my brother leaned over in front of me, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

“Ow, Dan, what’s your problem?” He asks.

“My problem? Why are you yelling in my face? I was sleeping-“

“It’s breakfast time, asshole. I was sent to get you.” He turns to walk back toward the door.

“Asshole? Aren’t you literally 8?” I swing my legs over the side of my bed, before realizing I’m half hard. I snatch my comforter, bunching it up over my lap before Adrian turns back around to look at me.

“You say it, Dad says it, I can say it too.”

“Don’t let Mum hear it.” Adrian just rolls his eyes at me before leaving the room completely, not fully closing the door behind him.

I let my head fall back onto my pillow, closing my eyes and willing my body to revert back to its neutral, unaroused state.

Fuck, I think.

I can recollect my dream in its entirety. The cold air of the dorm contrasting with Phil’s warm breath, the feeling of his body weighing mine down to the bed. His laugh, his smile, his eyes seeing right through me.

I don’t want to be having these kinds of dreams, the kind that stick to my brain throughout the day like ants to honey. If I could take a toothbrush to the cracks of my brain, I’d scrub away every tiny detail of these feelings, of Phil’s face. 

I’m not going to lie to myself and say I didn’t see this coming. Ever since the boy from the owlery left a shiny purple hickey on my neck I knew someone like Bella, or, rather, any female in general, would never be able to kick start the same feelings I had during that frantic 5-minute ordeal with some bloke I didn’t even know the name of.

I know I like boys, I just choose to ignore it, to hope that it’s just some phase I’ll grow out of when I finally meet the pretty pure-blooded girl I’m meant to be with. I can handle passing through a phase, wading in the water until the tide goes down and I can make my way out, but what I couldn’t handle was Phil’s face plaguing my mind once I checked out of hotel reality.

It was bad enough feeding myself excuses as to why I was feeling this way, why I couldn’t just be normal, without actually fancying someone on top of it. Sirius was a fascination. This was something different. 

The true meaning behind my unwarranted sticky, tar-like, hot glue feeling comes to me like a slap in the face. I was jealous out of my mind of whatever Phil was busy doing without me.

My summer nights were spent thinking up insane scenarios, trying to self-sabotage myself into believing things were going on between Phil and whatever Northern bloke he might have decided to bag over these agonizing 6 weeks, even though I have no true way of knowing anything of the sort.

Every time I receive a letter from Phil, I read it twice, three times, looking for anything between the lines, something to either confirm or deny that my theories are true.

The list of things I want to write to him consists of the following:

What’s the most exciting thing you’ve done this summer? Did it involve another boy? Is he cute? Do you wish I were there to hang out with you instead? Have you thought about me once outside of the letters? Have you ever dreamt about me? Did it plague you for days? Are you this torturous on purpose? Am I ever running through your head? Why can’t I get you out of mine? 

Instead, I answer his basic questions about how my summer has been, swap family stories and anecdotes, and talk about how excited we are for the term to start next week. 

I leave out the dream and all things related, and I let my mind eat me alive for the remainder of summer.

And, because I might not survive come September, I use my last scroll to write down every question I have for Phil, the ones I’ll never be brave enough to ask, in invisible ink. I can’t say why, but at least they’re out of my head. They aren’t my problem anymore. They’re out in the universe now, completely open and spoken, and, hopefully, I can count on the universe to answer.


	19. Phil's POV

I’m so excited to leave for school this year that I’m actually ready on time to leave for the train. Martyn’s been packed for a week; he can’t wait to see Cornelia again. He’s been moaning all summer about how this is her last year and he doesn’t know what he’ll do without her next year. I’ve tried to keep my eye rolling to a minimum, but it’s been hard with the non-stop griping.

Mum and Dad drop us at the station, our carts loaded down with our trunks. Martyn’s owl is hooting nonstop, and Griswold keeps reaching out of his carrier to bat at it. Needless to say, we’re getting some odd looks.

As we weave toward the crowds toward the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, I can’t help but smile. I can’t wait to see Louise and Dan again. I’ve been writing Dan all summer, and while I’ve sent a few notes to Louise, she’s always been lousy about writing back. As soon as I’m through the barrier, I spot Louise’s blonde head bouncing toward the scarlet train.

“Lou!” I call, and she turns around, her eyes scanning the crowd before she lands on me. She gapes at me as she approaches, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

“Phil, Merlin, you got bloody tall,” she says, laughing at me.

“Just a couple inches…” I mumble, but I know she’s right. I had to get all new robes at Madame Malkin’s. Otherwise, I’d have been marching around Hogwarts with my entire ankles showing.

“And your voice is so DEEP! Man, the blokes are going to love you this year.”

My ears turn red at this and I glance back into the crowd. I can’t see Dan yet; maybe he’s late. Or I suppose he could be on the train already.

“Have you seen-” I start, but Louise cuts me off.

“You know that Benjamin fellow? Gryffindor? Nice blond hair? I think he’s been eyeing me ever since Seb and I split. Do you think he’d be good with me?”

“What?” I say, still distracted in my search for Dan in the crowd. “Yeah, sure, Lou,” I mumble in response. I crane my neck around a couple more times, but eventually just give up.

“Shall we find a spot on the train?” she asks me. I can see she’s already tucked her luggage somewhere, so she helps me load mine into a nearby compartment. Once the door’s shut, I let Griswold out. He sniffs around the seats for a moment before settling on Louise’s lap.

“I wonder where Dan is,” she says, peering out the compartment window. “We’re set to leave in just a few minutes…”

“Probably sitting with some of his Slytherin mates,” I say, and I’m surprised to hear a little resentment in my own voice. Dan’s entitled to sit with whoever he wants. Sure, he sat with us last year, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do that again.

The train blows out a final gust of steam and I can feel the engine start to rumble when our compartment door bangs open, making both Louise and I jump. Griswold hops off of her lap, looking disgruntled as he turns his head to the door.

“Mind scooting over and making room for me?” Dan gasps from the doorway, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He’s got his trunk weighing down one side of his body and his very angry-looking owl is clamped under his other arm.

I hop up to help, but my head bangs against the door frame hard, and I fall back into my seat. “Ouch,” I groan as Louise takes my place, picking up one end of Dan’s trunk and sliding it into a space above us. I’m still rubbing the top of my head as Dan plops down beside me, bumping his leg against mine and smiling.

“Good summer?” he asks, glancing out the window as the train starts to move. He seems giddier than usual. His eyes are alive and he’s bouncing his leg up and down without stopping.

“Not too eventful,” I say, finally dropping my hand and looking over at him. He’s cut his hair since I last saw him, and it’s in a little mop of curls on top of his head. I like it, but I don’t say anything. I feel sort of shy all of the sudden, and I’m all too aware of his arm just a few inches from mine. The compartment is awkwardly silent, and I realize I haven’t asked him anything about his own summer.

“Oh! Uh, how was yours?”

He gives me a funny look, but smiles anyway, “It was boring as ever. I didn’t even see my dad once. He was supposed to meet us to come to the station, but I guess something held him up because he never came.”

His voice drops a little, and I can see the disappointment on his face until he quickly covers it up.

“Anyway, that’s why I was late. And you know, my mom was all fussy about us going.” He looks out into the hallway beyond the compartment.

“Looking for Adrian?” I say, and he nods in response.

“Who?” Louise asks, not bothering to look up from the book she’s got perched in her lap.

“My little brother,” Dan replies, leaning back into his chair. I suddenly realize that Louise hasn’t been writing to Dan all summer like I have. I feel a little proud, as though the information we shared with each other these last few months is privileged only to me.

Unless he’s confided in others as well, of course.

The thought makes something roll in my stomach, and I push it away. I’m not one to be jealous of my friend’s friends, and that’s twice just today that I’ve found myself overanalyzing what Dan’s been up to.  
I look back toward the compartment and see Dan’s eyes already on me.

“Phil, you’re a fucking giant,” he says, looking me up and down.

“Isn’t he?” Louise exclaims, looking up from her book for the first time. “He went from normal to Hagrid in three bloody months.

“You’re actually taller than me now,” Dan says, still looking at me. His eyes make me a little self-conscious and I cross my arms. I wish he’d look away.

As soon as he directs his eyes back to Louise, I feel that squirm in my stomach again.

“Dan, have you heard any of these rumors circling around?” Louise asks him, snapping her book shut. “They’re saying some of the purebloods are getting involved in a kind of dark cult.”

Dan’s eyeing her strangely now, and I can’t sort out just exactly what’s going on in his head. He’s usually pretty easy to read, but something dark has come over his face.

“Why would I know anything about that?” His voice is deadpan, almost scary, and Louise looks taken aback by his tone.

“I was just…your dad is really high up in the Ministry. I didn’t know if maybe he’d heard anything about it from the Aurors or anything.” She’s looking at him analytically now, too, and something in his face flips.

“Oh yeah, of course,” he says awkwardly, his face flushing around his neck. “No – I mean, I haven’t seen him this summer. And my mum and him don’t talk much about Ministry business.”

I can’t sort through what exactly just happened. The exchange was strange at the least, but as soon as the tense feeling entered our compartment, it’s gone, and Louise is jabbering on about this cute boy.

“…Phil I’m sure you’d think he’s cute. What’s your type anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I guess I hadn’t really thought about it before,” I say, feeling warm around my stomach.

“Well, what did Jaspar look like?”

I haven’t talked to Louise about Jaspar since that night before winter break over a year ago, and I’m not sure that I’ve ever mentioned him to Dan, but that wound has long since healed and I sigh, leaning back against my seat.

“Well, he had dark, chocolatey hair…green-blue eyes. His eyelashes were super long, and he had these little freckles on his nose…they were cute.” I smile, remembering how he’d looked in the sun when we would go to the park.

Louise is grinning at me, but Dan’s shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the window outside. I wonder if he’s only okay with me being gay when it’s not right there in his face.

“Ooo, tell me more about him. Was he good in the sack?” She winks at this and I suck in a breath.

“Louise!” I groan, my face feeling like it’s on fire.

“I’m just wondering!” she says defensively, putting her hands up. “You don’t have to tell me, even though I’m your best bloody mate.”

I shake my head at her, all too aware of Dan’s stony silence next to me.

“What’d you say that boy you liked was called? Barry?” I ask, just to distract her.

“Benjamin! Come on, I even pointed him out to you…” She starts to ramble on about this boy, and I tune her out. My eyes slide over to where Dan is, as far from me as he can get in the little compartment. He’s looking out the window still, obviously not listening to Lou, and I feel my stomach sink. I really hope he’s not angry with me.

About an hour later, the lunch trolley comes. Louise is still going on about Benjamin; at this point, I’ve missed about the entire conversation. She’s barely even taking breaks to breathe, so I seriously doubt that she’s caught on to my lack of participation. I take the trolley as an opportunity to shut her up. I buy all of us Chocolate Frogs, setting Dan’s next to him on the seat instead of into his hands. He seems to warm up after that, but I don’t bring up Jaspar or anything about blokes again. I wouldn’t want to set him off.

The sky is starting to get dark outside when a young Gryffindor girl comes to our compartment. She knocks, and when I tell her to come in, she smiles at all of us.

“Hullo, everyone. Um, you’re Louise, right?” she asks Lou, giving her a dimply smile.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she replies curiously.

“Well, Ben wanted me to know if you wanted to join us for a game of Exploding Snap in our compartment.” She giggles a little as she says this, and Louise’s cheeks turn bright pink.

“I’d love to! See you,” she calls to us dismissively, not even glancing our way.

I give her an incredulous look as she leaves, and the little Gryffindor girl casts us an apologetic smile.

“Man, Louise will ditch us for just about any guy, huh?” I say, laughing a little bit.

Dan smiles at this, standing and moving to the now empty row of seats across from me. He lies down, his knees bent, and Griswold hops up onto his chest, curling up there.

“He won’t even do that with me,” I say, smiling a bit as Dan scratches between my cat’s ears. He looks serene, his freckly nose scrunching as Griswold looks at him.

“I’ve got a way with animals, what can I say. They must be able to sense my emotional distress.”

He’s always doing that – making self-deprecating jokes. I only really find them funny about half of the time. The other half, they just make me sad.

“So, you really didn’t do anything over break?” I ask, leaning against the compartment door as the sun sinks all the way below the horizon.

Dan shakes his head in response, “Not a thing. ‘Cept write you, of course.”

I crack a smile, “No beautiful Muggle girls trying to lure you into showing them a magic trick?” I expect at least a chuckle at this, but Dan just frowns, shaking his head. He’s still staring intently at Griswold, scratching behind his ears.

“You haven’t heard from that boy since you broke things off third year?” he asks me, and the question catches me slightly off guard. I’m not sure whether I want to answer with how he was acting earlier, but I decide I can’t avoid a question that direct.

“No, nothing really. We didn’t exchange contact information, and some elderly man lives in his Aunt’s old flat.”

“You don’t miss him?”

This question throws me even more, and I can’t see what Dan’s getting at now.

“Um, maybe at first, when I went back to school. But it’s been so long now, I hardly think about him now, if ever actually.”

I’m expecting Dan’s mood to drop again, but he’s actually fairly cheerful after that. Maybe he was just tired earlier and the Chocolate Frog gave him a second wind.

The castle is coming into view by the time Louise returns to our compartment, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright.

“Right, boys, I’ve got a date to our first Hogsmeade,” she says gleefully, sitting down next to me. Griswold is fast asleep on Dan’s chest, purring happily.

“I take it Exploding Snap went well?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her.

“We actually played some Muggle game that one of Ben’s friends taught us…I think it was called Truth vs. Dare?”

“Truth or Dare!” I say, laughing. “I used to play that at birthday parties.”

“Yes, well, I kissed Ben. Four times. It was a great game, if I say so myself.” She pulls on her robes as the train starts to slow, and Dan and I do the same.

I can’t imagine getting sucked into a game of Truth or Dare and having to kiss one of the wizards at our school in front of a whole bunch of onlookers. My stomach rolls uncomfortably as I picture myself standing in front of a group, my lips locked with some blank-faced boy. I’m not sure that I’d like that at all.

We’re getting off the train now, heading toward the horseless carriages. Louise and Dan are talking about some wizard radio program that they both like, but my mind is wandering.

I can’t picture anyone at school wanting to kiss me at all. As far as I know, I’m the only out bloke in our year, or even in the school. I picture Louise and Dan both pairing off with people, and my chest feels tight.

I wonder if there’s a boy who will ever look at me how I want him to.


	20. Dan's POV

Phil towers over me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the shortest guy, standing at a good 5’10, but Phil is at least 6 foot now. His voice is so much deeper, too, like an actual man. I feel like a little boy next to him, and yet, at the same time, my chest couldn’t feel warmer at the change. He’s properly fit, any bloke would be dumb to pass him up given the opportunity. As I walk into the dining hall for the welcome feast, my heart is in my stomach.

I look across the hall at Phil and Louise, loading their plates high with mashes potatoes and ham, Phil’s tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he laughs. No matter how hard I try to reel it in, my mind keeps swimming back to Phil’s description of the boy he was with that summer. Dark brown hair, freckles… it’s a stretch to compare myself to such general features of a person, but I can’t help but think maybe. Maybe…

I also can’t help but replay my conversation with Phil after Louise left the cabin. It was one of the questions from my list; do you miss him? The words flew out of me before I could stop them, like someone turned on a faucet in the “Do Not Discuss” part my brain that I couldn’t shut off. I felt euphoric, like I could ask anything. And he doesn’t miss him. He did at first, which made me squirm, but he doesn’t anymore. He hardly even thinks about him, if ever. I press my peas into mush with the back of my fork, thinking about who Phil does think about.

Being in Slytherin has never blown as much as it does right now, my only two friends sitting tables away. I fiddle with my wand in attempt to alleviate some anxiety. I probably look so lame, eating alone.

I peer down the table, where I can see Sebastian and Andrew cackling to each other. I try to listen in, as this is the most excitement I’m going to get out of tonight. Sebastian hasn’t talked to me, or even looked at me, since we came back from Christmas earlier this year, understandably so. I can’t say I’m upset.

“Thinks he’s some badass, or something! Don’t know how sleeping with half of the 5th year is gonna prove to anyone that he’s cool.” Sebastian says.

“Oh, yeah, and what’s your body count again, Seb?” Andrew laughs and Sebastian goes an angry shade of red.

“More than you, dick head, and also, I’m not fucking blokes.” Sebastian crosses his arms. Andrew falls silent.

“Whoa, he’s a fag?” 

“Uh, yeah. When I say half the 5th year, I mean all the boys. He’s a right whore, and all of a sudden, too. Last year he was all homework and spell books. I reckon someone turned him, like how vampires work.” Sebastian fills his mouth with pumpkin juice, and Andrew shakes his head.

“I don’t reckon that’s how poofs work.”

“I’m joking, dumbass. I don’t care either fucking way, gives me something to do this year.”

“Have you seen Lester? He’s fucking huge.”

My ears heat up at the name. Louise and I aren’t the only ones who noticed.

I see Sebastian scan the room for Phil, landing on him and shrugging his shoulders. “Still the least intimidating thing I’ve seen. I reckon I could still knock him on his ass, same as always.”

“Wonder if Dodge has gotten to him yet.” Andrew eats a forkful of green beans, juice running down his chin. I feel nauseous.

Dodge. What a stupid fucking name.

“Don’t doubt it, Lester’s so lonely he’d probably hump a wall for some physical contact. And it’s not exactly like Dodge has proven to be picky.”

I stand up because I’ve had enough, leaving my full plate of food on the table. I don’t look over at Phil and Louise on my way out of the hall, but I know they must see me because I’m the only one walking out instead of coming in.

I spend my night in my dormitory, staring at the ceiling and ignoring the feeling of vertigo in my stomach. I’ve never even heard of Dodge, I thought Phil was the only out gay kid here. I try not to let the tight feeling of jealousy inch its way up from my chest into my throat, and I swallow it along with any thoughts of Phil and Dodge catching wind of each other. I’m overreacting, Dodge could be some complete dick head with a snaggle tooth and a lazy eye. Just because he’s gay and Phil’s gay doesn’t mean anything.

I toss and turn for hours as slowly more and more boys make their way to their beds. By the time everyone in my room has settled in and the lights are off, I decide I’m too restless to sleep. 

I creep out of my dorm and head for the common room, walking right through to the door leading out into the dungeon corridor. The castle floor is cold beneath my feet, even with my socks on, and I walk to the end of the hallway where there’s a boy’s bathroom.

I lock myself in one of the stalls, letting my head hang sideways until it rests against the wall, and I hold my sleeve against my mouth as I choke out a sob. It’s such a weird feeling, whatever I’m feeling right now. I would say I want to go home, but I don’t really feel like I have one anymore. Anywhere where my father feels like hell, and to be honest this is becoming just as brutal. My shoulders hunch up as I cry harder into my arm. I wish all the gravity in the world would give away, picking me up and sweeping me out into the depths of space. I’d probably feel less alone floating to my impending doom through the unending darkness than I do right now. I fall asleep on the floor, my head still resting against the stall wall and the floor freezing underneath me.

*

Breakfast is just as weird as dinner. I’m unrealistically close to saying fuck it and sitting with the Hufflepuffs, but Phil is nowhere in sight. I notice I’m shaking the entire table when the girl next to me politely asks me to stop bouncing my leg. I eat my food as quickly as I can, giving myself ample time to make my way back to my dormitory and sit on my bed to study the ceiling some more.

Halfway to the dungeons I spot the familiar head of black hair.

“Dan, hey! Have I missed breakfast?” Phil runs towards me, his robes all lopsided, like he threw them on in a hurry, and his hair a mess, with bits sticking up here and there. He looks…hot.

One thought crosses my mind about where he’s been and what he’s been doing, his cheeks flushed pink, but I try to forget it as soon as it comes.

Instead, I say, “Someone’s in a hurry.”

“I can usually count on Griswold to lick my face to wake me, but I don’t know where he’s gone off to. Please tell me there’s still toast and jam.” Phil is even prettier up close. His lips hang slightly parted from having been panting from the run, and he smells faintly of sleep and lemons. Wait, maybe it’s oranges.

“There’s always toast and jam.” I say, moving to the side to continue down the corridor toward the common room.

“Wait, you’re not coming?” Phil turns to watch me walk away.

“I’ve had enough awkward eating experiences alone at the Slytherin table to last a lifetime, I think. I’ll pass.” I don’t want to seem annoyed, because I’m not technically annoyed at Phil, he just so happens to be the person I ran in to. And, I might be slightly frustrated with him.

“Will I see you at the Quidditch game later?” He looks hopeful, and I want to say no just because, but we both know I’ll be there.

“Nothing I’d rather do more.” I say, and it’s sarcasm, but Phil doesn’t have to know the truth hidden deep within it. All the Quidditch game is is an excuse to sit beside Phil for an extended period, completely unbothered and with hardly anything else to focus on, since I’m not one for sports.

“That’s our Dan, sardonic as ever.” Phil smiles small.

“It’s my greatest attribute.” I say, beginning to walk backwards, both our eyes still locked to each other’s.

“Easy there, you’re definitely overlooking your foreboding existentialism and ability to be properly annoying.” Phil’s still smiling.

I crack a laugh. “If you’re trying to win me over, you’re not doing a very good job.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I swear my heart stops at how romantic it sounded, which was the last of my intentions, but Phil doesn’t seem to notice, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hey, I never said it wasn’t endearing.” He looks at me for a moment, which turns into a good, awkward handful of seconds, because I can’t think of a single thing to say. He is fucking killing me. I urge him to look away, to give me a second to breathe, because it’s damn near impossible to do so with those blue irises on me.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Phil turns on his heel to go, and I just nod and smile. He gives me a small wave before continuing his quest for bread and jam.

Endearing. Huh.

*

Phil, Louise and I meet up for the game around 3. In terms of the actual game, I’m not too excited, but at least we don’t have to sit with our houses for things like this. Phil’s scarf is pulled up over his chin and mouth, keeping him warm. 

“Cold, mate?” I nudge his shoulder.

“We’re not all made of steel, Super-Man.” He says through the fabric. I wish I could pull back the scarf so I could watch the smile that I knew was being hidden.

“Guys, right there!” Louise points up a few rows of seats to a group of people, mostly Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and I notice Ben, the bloke Louise has been drooling over. I wish I could groan but I don’t want to offend her, so instead I follow her, Phil right behind me. 

We sit, Louise, then me, with Phil on the end, and even though I’m shoulder to shoulder with both of them, the warmth of Phil seems to be burning a hole right through my robe, through my sweater, my t-shirt and my arm. I swallow.

When the game starts, they begin announcing the players and their positions, starting on the Slytherin side. 

When Sebastian’s name as a Chaser is announced, Phil and I immediately look at each other.

“Since when?” I ask.

“Last year! I swear you two are so daft,” Louise says before turning back to giggle at whatever Ben is saying.

“Huh,” Phil says. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, honestly. He’s so aggressive I’m shocked he didn’t become a Chaser sooner.”

“Maybe now he’ll express his repressed emotions in a polite manner.” I cross my arms over my chest.

When they move to the Gryffindor team, I all but zone out until I hear the name and I almost gasp aloud.

“And on the Gryffindor side as our Keeper, we have Dodge Tindol! This is his third year as Keeper, having been offered the position as a mere second year!”

My eyes immediately shoot to the Gryffindor goal posts, and, surely enough, there he is. I can’t get an accurate look at him from how far we are, but I can see he has mousy brown hair that falls forward in waves across his forehead. It feels like there’s a boulder in my stomach.

“Phil!” Louise whispers across me. “He’s the guy people have been talking about! Proper fit and gay!”

I keep my eyes fixed directly in front of me, not daring to look at Phil. This cannot be happening.

“Oh, yeah?” Phil says, and in my peripheral, I can see him look over to the goal posts. Look away, look away. 

“I heard he’s kind of a player, but that could just be a rumor.” Louise says. “Lots of those flying around these days.”

I wish I could set myself on fire or jump into the ocean and sink directly to the bottom. It’s like the world wants me to feel like this. I look up to the sky, cursing whatever un-seeable force was single-handedly creating this torturous reality for me. What did I fucking do, huh?

“Not exactly looking to get my heart broken, Lou.” Phil says.

“Never know till you try.” Louise ends the conversation there and it takes everything in me not to jump with fucking joy. I look at Phil. Don’t do something stupid.

“You should.” I say, though I don’t mean one part of it, in fact it’s the exact opposite of what I really mean. Idiot.

“I don’t know, I’ve heard a few things about him. Not really one for sporty types, anyway.”

I push, because I must want myself to be miserable. “He might be nice, you never know.” Stop there, Dan, you can save this. “And he’s just your type.” 

There, I’d said it, the one thing I didn’t want Phil to think I put directly into his fucking head. I feel like my own worst enemy, I just have so much anger swirling around inside me, like cream into black coffee, and I can’t control any of it. I will myself to calm down, but Phil keeps talking.

“Is he? What is my type?”

I want to hit him. He knows exactly what his type is, I could practically feel the swoon when he described Jaspar’s ringlet curls like it was a tidal wave.

I don’t let up, not even bothering anymore to try and hide my irritation. “You fancy pretty boys who have barks bigger than their bite.” 

I don’t know one thing about Jaspar, other than that I hate his fucking guts, and I don’t even know for sure if Phil finds this Dodge dickhead even remotely attractive, but I don’t care.

Phil looks slightly offended and confused. “You obviously don’t know anything about the boys I like.”

My heart wavers, like it doesn’t know whether it should even attempt to keep beating after what it’s just experienced. He’s actually upset with me. 

“I do have eyes, you know.” I look away, avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’ve never seen or met anyone I’ve fancied. And even if I did think Dodge was cute, what’s it to you? Half the time you don’t even like me!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Phil, why else would I hang around you?” I was properly angry now, and I could feel Louise and her group’s eyes on us as we bicker. 

“Because you obviously feel guilty for never speaking up when Sebastian had it out for me. Being fake nice doesn’t constitute forgiveness, Dan, and if you don’t want to be here you don’t have to.”

My mouth hangs open slightly, and I open and close it a few times, scrounging for something, anything to say.

“Is that what you really think?” I whisper.

Phil looks like he might have gone too far, like he might even take it back, but then his face hardens again. “If the shoe fits.”

I scoff. “Fine. Enjoy fawning over McFucking Dreamy.” I stand up, stepping over Phil before making my way down the stadium steps.

Louise calls out for me, but I ignore her, keeping my eyes on my feet, trying not to run back and tell Phil that I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean it, that I’m just upset. I’m jealous, I’m angry, I’m insecure. 

I keep my eyes on my feet so that I won’t go back and tell him everything; how I’m his type too, how I can’t keep his stupid face out of my dreams, how I’m not the homophobic asshole that he thinks I am.

I keep my eyes on my feet so that I won’t go tell him I’m just like him, types in all, how I prefer long slender fingers and broad chests over silky ponytails and glossed lips. So that I won’t go tell him how badly I want to kiss the smile off his face, or how much I want one of his hands in my hair. So that I won’t completely embarrass myself, because there’s no way in hell he’d ever let me get one word out after what I’ve just done, and I might as well give up now before I even try.


	21. Phil's POV

I can barely focus throughout the rest of the match. I’m far too aware of Louise’s worried gaze, which flicks up to me just about every other minute. It’s far too tempting to snap at her, tell her to give it a rest and take her nose out of my business, but I know I would only be lashing out because I’m upset. I already snapped so badly at Dan that it’s making my stomach roil. I can’t believe what I said to him. I know well and good that he’s not just hanging around me because of what happened with Sebastian, but I guess I also know that hitting that nerve would hurt him the worst.

It’s no big secret that since his falling out with Sebastian’s gang, Dan hasn’t really had a huge group of mates. He hangs out with Louise and me at every opportunity, but everyone can see how alone he really is at meals and other events that are segregated by house. We’re all he’s got, and while the feeling’s mutual, it’s pretty obvious who Lou is gonna side with during a blow out like what just happened.

I don’t watch as Gryffindor scores again and again. I don’t watch as Louise nudges me during Dodge’s great saves. I don’t watch as the Snitch is caught. I just follow everyone around me like a puppet, ooo-ing and ahh-ing when I’m supposed to, my mind far across the lawns with Dan, wherever he’s gone off to. I wonder if he’s crying. The thought makes my face burn with guilt, but then I think about what he said about my type. Was he having a stab at me for liking blokes…or was it something else? I swear, Dan is more difficult to read than Louise, and she’s a bloody girl.

I think hard about the last thing he said to me: “Enjoy fawning over McFucking Dreamy.” Where the hell did that even come from? I haven’t shown even the slightest interest in Dodge. I mean, he’s an alright-looking guy. A little stocky for my type, but all the same not bad. I can’t sort out why it would matter to Dan what kind of bloke I like. I mean, unless…

I snap to as the people around me all start to rise. The match is over, right. Lou is whispering something in Ben’s ear, and he takes off his scarf, wrapping it around her, covering her brilliantly pink cheeks. She’s never going to take that stupid thing off, even though it’s Gryffindor colors. If Dan were here, he’d probably roll his eyes at me, or pretend to retch over the whole thing. Something in my chest feels hollow.

Louise finally tears herself away from Ben, and we start down the steps toward the pitch below.

“Louise, can I ask you something?” I say to her. My brain feels like a whirlwind right now, and I know that if I don’t get what I’m thinking out of my mouth soon, it’s going to pop out at the most inopportune time.

“Of course, Philip, what’s going on?”

“Well, I was just thinking, you don’t think Dan-”

“Hey.”

I jump at the sound of Dan’s voice. It comes from just to the left of me, and a little bit behind as we exit the pitch out to the grassy lawns. He must have been waiting for us all this time.

“Oh, hi,” I say awkwardly. The tension is so thick between us that you could cut it with a knife. I don’t know what he’s getting at, coming up to me after what he’s just said. Does he think I’m going to stop being upset that easily? We’re standing in the middle of the flow of students exiting the pitch, and Louise grabs Dan’s arm, pulling him along with us. I wish she wouldn’t.

His face is flushed, and I can’t help but think that his eyes look sort of red. I get a vicious satisfaction from that before I catch myself. Dan’s my friend, and I was being just as much of an arse as he was. He opens his mouth to speak and I shake my head.

“Save it. Let’s just move on,” I say, shaking my hair into my eyes a bit as we walk. I’ve started hunching since I grew this summer. I feel like the jolly green giant. We take a few more steps, a horrible, tedious silence hanging low over our heads.

Louise cranes her neck around, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Do you guys see Ben anywhere? I meant to ask him about where he wants to meet for Hogsmeade this week.”

I look behind me just as she spots Ben, waving her hand up above her. He comes sauntering over, and it’s not until he’s right next to Lou that I realize he’s brought a friend with him.

“Hello, dear,” he says, kissing Lou’s hand. At least he’s more of a gentleman than Seb was. Dodge is hanging just a step behind Ben, looking peculiarly shy for someone who usually has such a big personality.

“I was just telling Dodge what a great game he played,” Ben says, nudging Dodge’s shoulder. His hair is windswept, a mess overtop his head. It’s sort of sweet. I smile, offering him a little wave, which he returns.

“Oooo, yes Dodge you were so great. That last save you made was brilliant,” Louise croons.

“Ben, who’s your pretty friend?” Dodge asks, and I can see the shyness fading almost immediately.

“You know Louise, don’t be daft.”

“I didn’t mean her,” he says simply, and the guy actually winks at me. I feel a steady blush creeping up my neck, and I nearly choke as Lou replies.

“Oh! This is Phil, he’s my best mate.”

“Hey,” I say, my voice crackly from my throat being so tight. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a bloke with so much confidence in himself.

“And this is our friend, Dan. He’s Slytherin, but I swear he’s a sweetie,” Louise continues, but Dodge’s eyes stay on me. I feel his gaze and look back toward my feet as we walk.

Louise starts hounding Ben about their Hogsmeade visit and Dodge slips around them so he’s in stride with me.

“So, you like Quidditch, Phil?” he asks me, and I can feel his breath against my ear. I must admit, it’s nice to get this kind of attention after watching Louise be in steady relationships for the entirety of our schooling.

“I can’t say I know much about it. Raised by Muggles,” I say, glancing over at him. He’s got sort of muddy eyes, but they’re bright as he looks at me.

“So, you’re a football guy? My dad’s a Muggle, and he played professionally for a while.”

I smile at that. It’s nice to meet someone who knows more about the Muggle world than what’s written in their Muggle Studies book. I’ve gotten sick of being asked about how electricity works.

“Yeah, yeah, I watch a little football,” I say, my chest warming up.

“Football?” It’s then that I remember that Dan’s on my other side. I turn to look over at him, my face still feeling hot.

“It’s a Muggle sport, you remember, I’ve shown you pictures before. That guy in my dorm has a poster.”

Dan nods quietly, and I feel Dodge’s eyes on us.

“Well, Phil who likes football, I hope to see you around again,” he says, and he brushes his hand against mine as he heads back to the pitch, where the rest of his team is waiting.

My skin tingles, and I smile to myself. We’re at the castle now, and Ben makes to heads upstairs after planting a soft kiss on Louise’s lips. Lou looks at me, grinning.

“Well, Dodge certainly seems nice,” she says to me, and I can’t help but smile again.

“Yeah, he is,” I reply, biting on my bottom lip as I think. My argument with Dan feels so far away now. It seems virtually insignificant in the scheme of everything else.

“Do you guys want to go to the library? We can work on that assignment for McGonagall?” Dan pipes up. He’d been so quiet the whole walk back that his voice comes as a bit of a surprise now. I look over at him, expecting to see him wallowing again, but he seems surprisingly chipper.

“Well, I told Ben I’d meet him after dinner, but you two go. I’ll catch up with you later if I get a chance.”  
We all head to the Great Hall, Dan wandering off to the Slytherin table. I mostly pick at my food, my brain drifting as Louise babbles to me, and anyone else who will listen, about Ben. I think I was wrong about Dan earlier. He was probably just afraid that if I started liking some bloke, I’d stop hanging around him and Lou as much. If I ever got with Dodge, and Lou stayed with Ben, Dan would be left pretty much by himself. I get being afraid of that, but it’s not fair for him to lash out at me for it. He’s got to trust that regardless of my relationships with other people, I still really value our friendship. Maybe I should tell him that.

Once I finish eating, I got out into the entrance hall to wait for Dan, but he’s already there, fiddling with his wand like always. I swear the boy doesn’t even eat anymore. He glances up as I exit and plasters a massive smile on his face. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Ready to go?” I ask him, and he nods, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. We walk toward the library. The halls are surprisingly empty for a Saturday, but considering the match, it’s not too unusual. Most of the Gryffindors are probably off celebrating.

We walk in silence, and I wonder what exactly Dan is thinking. I wonder if he’s going back over our argument like I am. I still can’t sort out what was fueling all of that. I look up from the ground and over at him, catching his eyes already on me. He darts them away, and my thoughts from earlier come back. Maybe I should use this time with him to test the waters, to try and figure out what he’s really thinking. It’d be nice to get at least a little glimpse into what actually goes on inside that head of his.

“You know you can sit with us in the Great Hall, right?” I ask, and I don’t know where it comes from. He looks back over to me, slightly surprised.

“Oh, well…I just figured with the houses and everything…”

“Ben sits with us at breakfast and nobody minds. You’re gonna get all scrawny if you keep skipping meals. Can’t have that.”

He looks at me curiously, as if he didn’t expect me to be paying attention to that kind of thing. Of course, I do.

“Alright, alright, I will.”

“Good,” I say simply, and we stop in front of the library, pulling open the heavy wooden door. Every single table is empty, so I pick one in the back corner, the furthest from the librarian’s hawkish gaze. I get a scroll from my bag and sit down, Dan sitting across from me.

“Wait,” I say as he starts unloading his bag, “sit next to me so we can work together.”

His cheeks are a little pink, but he scoots over, nonetheless.

“Okay, so I started the short answers last night…” I say, unrolling the parchment to reveal the single paragraph that I’d began. Dan leans over toward me, scanning his eyes down the page. He lets out a breath and I get a sudden burst of mint toothpaste. I don’t know how he does it, but the boy always smells like he just brushed his teeth.

“Oh…I see what you did,” Dan says quietly, he’s got his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, “I think you might have used the wrong wand motion here, though. Isn’t it vertical before horizontal?”

I peer down and, sure enough he’s right. He’s always right. I can’t comprehend how he manages to be so fucking smart without even trying.

“Geez, Howell, you catch everything, don’t you?” I say, smiling.

He glances up at me, “Not quite,” he says in a breath, and something in my stomach flutters. I don’t think he’s talking about the assignment. He looks back down quickly, and suddenly I feel like I’m reading too far into things.

“Let me write out my answers to the first two questions, and then we can compare,” he says, unrolling his parchment and pulling out a quill. He starts scratching down answers. His handwriting is barely legible. What a lefty. The ink smears as he races across the paper, his answer easily twice the length of mine in half the time. It’s sort of incredible to watch.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re already ahead of me,” I say softly, and he glances over at my paper. I still haven’t added anything.

“Well, yeah, silly. You were supposed to write your second answer, too.” He seems to have loosened up a bit. He’s relaxed; it’s nice to see.

“Alright, I’m not brain dead, just stupid,” I say teasingly, rolling my eyes. “Writing the second answer means I have to actually understand the second question. Which I definitely don’t.”

Dan laughs quietly and leans back over to me. I can smell his shampoo, and a rogue curl tickles my nose a little as he peers down at my notes on McGonagall’s homework questions.

“That’s because you wrote ‘axe’ instead of ‘ox,’ wise guy,” he says, smiling, and I realize he’s right. Again.

“That would explain a lot,” I grumble, and he bumps my shoulder.

“Hey, don’t get all grumpy. Everyone has their strongpoints.”

“And yours are…everything?” I say, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Hardly.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push him to, but there’s a certain distain behind his last word. I wonder if he’s really as okay as he acts.

We spend most of the night working together on the remainder of McGonagall’s homework. His shoulder presses against mine as we write, and it keeps me warm as the library gets colder and colder. Eventually, Madame Pince kicks us out, telling us it’s far too late for students to be out of their dormitories.

We collect our things, heading back toward the dungeon. It’s far later than I thought, and the moon shines in through the high windows, giving us enough light to not have to use our wands.

“Thanks for working with me on that,” I say, peeking over at Dan through the corner of my eyes. His curly hair is falling onto his face as he avoids the cracks in the stone floor. He looks over at me, and I direct my eyes back down.

“’Course, Phil, you don’t have to thank me. It was my idea, anyway.” He lets out a long sigh, and that sadness comes back over his face again for a moment.

“You okay?” I ask. We’re close to my common room now, and I stop to talk to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m great.” That same plastic smile comes back over his face, and I frown. I don’t want to push and make him upset if he really is alright.

“Well…you know you can always talk to me, right? That’s what mates are for.”

He nods, not meeting my eyes, and I feel a little bit sad. He’s definitely hiding things from me, and I’m not sure what about it makes my heart hurt so badly, but it does, nonetheless.

“This is your stop,” he says in a falsely cheerful voice, and I search his face one more time.

“See you, Dan,” I say, waving my hand at him.

“Bye, Phil.”


	22. Dan's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but I promise I'll make it up with the next one :) Enjoy

8 times. They’ve talked 8 fucking times in the span of the last 5 days. That’s more than once a day. It’s like torture.

I thought taking up Phil’s time by offering trips to the library and sitting with him and Louise at meals would make him forget about Dodge, but I seem to forget that it takes two to tango, and I fucking hate watching them dance.

Dodge has some kind of insatiable hunger for Phil’s attention (don’t we all), and every time Phil is in a room, he has to be the one talking to him. I can’t get a word in edge-wise around Dodge, and the majority of the time I just pretend like I’m slowly fading out of the room, like a dimmer being turned all the way down, until I am no longer there at all. It feels better than sitting with the jealousy. I want to rip Dodge’s tongue out of his head, so he’ll never speak to Phil again. 

But I’m not that crazy.

Yet.

Thankfully we don’t all three have classes together, or I’d surely burst into flames on the spot. I am like a bomb around the two of them, one flirtatious conversation away from exploding and annihilating every physical thing within a hundred-mile radius. Honestly, I’m not doing too well.

During Potions class with Phil I can’t help but notice the tiny bits of stubble sprouting from his chin. He really did grow up so much this summer. He hardly knows how to carry himself now with the few extra inches, sauntering through the people around him, like he might lose balance and knock a few first years down. He keeps talking about how he wishes he could’ve stayed 5’9 forever. I want to tell him how badly I want him to stay exactly where he is.

He notices me staring and asks, “What? Do I have jam on my face?”

“Yeah, right there.” I point directly at his nose, and his eyes follow my finger, before flicking it directly upward. He laughs and swats my hand away.

“You’re an ass, and not funny.” He says, and the oh-so-familiar bit of pink tongue slips through his toothy grin. Fuck.

“Disagree, mate, I think I’m rather fucking hilarious.”

“Please tell me you’re not in the mood to hide in your room after this. I really need something fun to do.” My ears automatically perk up.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Haven’t thought of that yet. I’ll let you know,” Phil smiles and goes back to focusing on the ingredient list, my mind nowhere near potions after that.

By the time the bell rings I’ve gotten little to no work done, thanking Phil endlessly for letting me copy off him at the end there. 

“So, let’s get some people together and take a walk or something later tonight. I feel like I’ve been here for 5 years and have hardly explored the grounds.” Phil swings his bag over his back, and we head for the door.

“I’m usually one for adventure, but don’t you think taking a late-night walk around the castle might get us into the tiniest bit of trouble?” I’m grinning, acting rather unconvincingly worried.

“Maybe I’m looking for a bit of trouble.” Phil winks, and my heart nearly stutters, in fact, I’m pretty sure it almost stops completely.

“R-right, I-“ but before I can finish, there’s the obnoxious head of brown hair bobbing toward us, and I feel all of my insides heat up at once, like someone set my stomach ablaze. I swallow the flames in one gulp.

“Lester,” He says, stopping in front of us. He completely ignores me, leaning against the wall in front of Phil. “Tempting as ever.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t we, Dodge?” Phil says, though he’s smirking ever so slightly, like he doesn’t want Dodge to see that his comment affected him. I look down to play with my robe. So many stitches, I think, as I try to count them.

“Where’re you off to, then?” Dodge is staring at Phil, not daring to let his eyes trace over anything else.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Phil is flirting, I can hear it in his voice, and I lose track of what number I’m on. Come on, Dan, keep it together.

“Oh, I’m most interested.” Dodge moves a bit closer. “You’re always on the move, I can hardly keep up with you.” 

“Can’t pin me down, I guess.” Phil says.

“We’ll see,” Dodge says, and Phil and I both go stiff, though I know it’s for different reasons. “What’re your plans for the night, Lester?”

“I suppose you’ll be inviting yourself either way?” Phil seems more nervous now, and I feel it, the fading, like someone’s erasing me with the tip of their pencil.

“If I deem it worthy.”

“Late night walk around the grounds with his friends. Surely not worthy.” I say, and Dodge looks at me for the first time. His eyes feel like daggers to mine, and he offers an icy smile.

He turns back to Phil. “See you tonight, then.” He says to him, moving a piece of his hair from out of his eyes. I clench my fists at my sides.

When Dodge walks away, Phil stays with his back against the wall. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, why would you let that pompous asshole join us?” I hiss.

“Would you stop, he’s not an asshole he’s just kind of pretentious. It’s slightly annoying, but he’s not unbearable.”

“He’s conceited and patronizing, he thinks he’s better than half the kids in 5th year just because he’s good looking and plays Quidditch, it’s ridiculous.”

“Ah, he admits it.”

“Admits what?” I’m fully annoyed now.

“You think he’s good looking too.”

Too. I try not to spend too long focusing on the word that serves as Phil’s confirmation for his attraction for Dodge, and instead focus on my rebuttal. 

“Not my type, thanks” I spit.

“Oh? And what’s your type, then?”

I’m struck in this chest with his question, feeling it knock me back ever so slightly.

“I,” I start, and now I can’t stop, because it’s too late. “I like all kinds of people.”

“Just not him.” Phil says matter-of-factly.

“No, I can’t say I’m one for vain pricks.” I shrug.

“Yet, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Maybe I don’t have a strict type.”

“So versatile.” Phil waves his hands, mocking me. My face is surely red with irritation.

“Fine, you dick.” I begin. “I like when people are smart and sensitive. People with nice personalities, who notice tiny details of the people they admire. People with the capacity to add numbers bigger than 2, everything opposite of that walking bellend.”

“That tells me nothing about the people you fancy.” Phil rolls his eyes.

“Why does it even matter, mate? You trying to find me a quick shag?”

“You sure seem like you could use one.” Phil says, and it might be a joke, but I don’t think it’s the slightest bit funny. I stand, stunted, before I close my mouth completely.

“Fuck off.” I say, turning around and stalking back towards the dorms.   
Phil can enjoy his walk with his shiny new play thing, I’m not going to put myself through hours of watching them make googly eyes over each other. 

I have better fucking things to do.


	23. Phil's POV

I don’t know why, but I’m kind of hurt when Dan doesn’t show up for the walk. Louise, Ben, and Dodge all came, and I try to think up reasons to stall us around the edge of the castle. After fifteen minutes, Lou is restless that we’ll be caught, so we wander out into the dark grounds. I guess I can’t be too surprised that Dan didn’t come, after how upset he was. I still think he blew up over nothing, but I’m not going to tell him that.

I’m painfully aware of how close Dodge is walking to me. He latched himself to my side as soon as he came out of the castle. It’s nice to get attention like this after so long, but there’s still a weird awkwardness that I feel around him. The last bloke I was with in this way was Jaspar, and everything always felt effortless around him. This definitely isn’t like that, but I guess I’ll take what I can get. Dodge is cute enough.

He’s talking right now about Quidditch again, and I can’t help but think that maybe Dan had a bit of a point about him. I shake that off – screw Dan. He couldn’t even be bothered to show tonight. I let Dodge lean into my arm a little more.

“So, Philip,” I don’t really like when anyone uses my full name except Lou, but I let it slide, “any fun ideas for tonight?” He’s got his arms wrapped around mine, but I’m still freezing. He isn’t all that warm. Lou and Ben are walking ahead of us, talking in hushed voices.

“After this? Probably just heading off to sleep.” I’m pretty sure it isn’t the answer that he wants, and he persists.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas that might be more fun…” My stomach squirms at that, and before I feel like I have to answer, Lou turns back toward us.

“I’m freezing, guys, and I’m pretty sure Hagrid is out by the forest. We should go back in before we get caught.”

I let out a breath of relief, disentangling my arm from Dodge as we get closer to the castle. He tries to hold onto my fingers, but I slip them away, putting my hands in to my pockets, pretending I’m colder than I really am.

We creep into the silent entrance hall, wiping mud off of our shoes, and I peer around, praying no teachers are patrolling.

“Well, see you lot tomorrow,” I say, hoping to get away quickly before I get roped into something else.

“G’bye, Phil,” Dodge croons, and he trails his hand across my waist as he moves to the stairs. “Let’s do something again tomorrow.” I don’t know what ‘something’ means, and I’m not sure I want to know, but I nod all the same. Ben makes to follow Dodge, first locking his lips over Lou’s in a wet mess that I don’t stick around to listen to.

I wish things with Dodge felt easier. The only people I ever feel like myself around anymore are Dan and Lou, and hardly Louise with all the time she spends gushing over Ben.  
I reach the Hufflepuff common room and start down the steps to my dormitory, trying to keep my steps quiet. I don’t hear Lou following, so I’m guessing she’s wrapped around Ben in some classroom off of the Entrance Hall. I lay down in bed, and I can’t quite figure out why my stomach feels so much like I’ve swallowed a block of ice.

I’ve got a cute bloke bending over backwards for me, and still, something seems to be tugging my spirits down. I roll to my side and catch sight of an unfamiliar book on my bedside table. I sit up, brushing my fingers over the cover. As I pick it up, a small note slips from between the pages.

“P-

I saw this in the library the other day and figured you’d like it.  
Seems like just the thing a nerd like you would like to read.

-D”

I smile a little at the note, glancing at the title of the book, “The Heedful Herbologist’s Handbook.” I flip through the pages, trying to stay quiet so my dormmates don’t wake. My chest feels warm at the thought of Dan spotting a book and immediately thinking of me. That’s the most thoughtful thing that anyone has done for me in…quite a while.

I read by wand-light for hours before eventually falling asleep, the book slumped against my chest.

The next morning, I look for Dan in the Great Hall. I’m hoping that, after my last invite, he might actually sit with us, but it looks like I was wrong. Dodge is there with Ben before Louise and I have even sat down, and I let out a gruff sigh, suddenly agitated. I don’t feel like being patronized all day.

“Hello, lovely,” Ben says, kissing Lou’s cheek. Dodge looks up at me, but I just nod, stretching a thin smile across my lips. He looks disappointed, but I ignore it, looking back toward the doors to the Great Hall. Maybe he’s just late.

I pick at some toast as Dodge, Ben, and Lou clamor on about something I’m not listening to. I only look up when Dodge leans into my shoulder, his lips close to my ear.

“Earth to Phil,” he whispers, and it makes me shiver a little.

“Sorry, what?” I lift up my head, straightening my back out and looking toward the others.

“We were just saying we should have a little get together tonight,” Ben says, and Dodge looks at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, sure. Who all were you thinking we’d invite?” The words have hardly left my lips as Dan wanders into the Great Hall. He always walks like he doesn’t quite know where he’s going. I’m pleased to see him coming toward us, no matter how lost he may appear.

He sits across from me and Dodge, his shoulder bumping Lou’s.

“Hey,” he says softly, not looking at me. He’s still mad.

“Dan! I’m so glad you’re here, we were just saying we want to have a little party tonight, maybe invite some of the other houses.”

“Oh, so we’ve upgraded from hang-out to party?” I say sarcastically, suddenly feeling a little more energized than before. Dodge grins, tucking his hand into mine, and I let him.

“I just thought maybe it’d be fun. Get something to drink, invite some people from around the castle, play some music and games, you know. Everyone’s been so stressed about classes. We could use a break.”

Ben is nodding along as Lou says this, and I can’t lie, it does sound nice.

“Alright, I’m in,” I say, and then I look over to Dan. He’s still pushing his food around, never really putting anything in his mouth, “Dan?” I say, and for the first time since sitting down, he looks up at me. His eyes are empty.

“Sure,” he answers simply, and I frown a little. I’d hoped his sitting with us might have been a sign that he wasn’t quite so angry anymore.

I want to thank him for the book, but I don’t say anything else over the course of breakfast.

I’m with Lou in Charms later, working on nonverbal spells (well, pretending to), when she leans over to me.

“Dodge really seems to like you,” she murmurs in my ear, and I glance away from the goblet I’m supposed to be levitating without saying a word.

“Yeah, you think?” I reply, making sure Flitwick isn’t watching us.

“He’s cute, don’t you think?”

I shrug at this, taking my eyes back to the goblet, “I guess so.”

“What do you mean, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“He’s alright.”

“Philip, what on earth is going on with you?” she says, turning away from her own goblet.

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, deciding to play stupid.

“You know what I mean. You and Dan are at each other’s throats since the Quidditch match, you’re completely dismissive around Dodge, and you haven’t been nearly as focused on your coursework. Are you alright?”

The genuineness of her question startles me, and I swallow uncomfortably.

“I’m fine, Lou,” I mumble, suddenly feeling bashful. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I certainly hadn’t thought Louise had noticed through her mouthful of Benjamin. I guess I don’t give her enough credit.

“I’m alright, really,” I insist when she doesn’t let up her stare. “Just tired. Boys are a lot of work.”

She laughs at that and starts off on some story about Ben, which I tune out just enough to let my brain wander.

My mind is too full of other things to listen.

We have History of Magic before lunch, and as usual, it’s a struggle to stay awake with Professor Binns droning on about some Goblin rebellion. I’m leaning on my hand, staring at the blackboard with unfocused eyes, which are slowly drooping shut…

I’m out by the lake, and I can feel the warmth of the sun against my bare shoulders. There’s sand stuck to my legs, which I usually hate, but I can’t feel right now, so I don’t mind. I look down, and I’m surprised to see someone lying in my lap. He’s got dark curly hair, and some freckles on his cheekbones, but before I can look closer, he’s gotten up and is running toward the water.

“Come on!” he calls to me, but I can’t quite find the energy to stand up. I try and try, but my legs keep giving out.

“Phil, the water’s lovely! Come on, baby,” he calls again, and I try desperately to stand, but still my legs aren’t working.

I watch the boy swim further and further into the lake until he’s just a speck on the horizon. I try to tell him to wait, I try to crawl to the shoreline, but every time I do, my voice gets quieter, and my legs get weaker.

Pretty soon, he’s gone from my view.

“Phil, get up, it’s time to go, and you’re drooling all over your textbook.”

I sit up sharply, my neck cramping as I turn and look to Louise, who’s already got her bag slung over her shoulder.  
“Let’s go, Philip, I’m supposed to meet Ben for lunch, and you’re making us late,” she says impatiently, and I scramble to collect my things, dumping them into my bag.

My mind is still stuck on that dream, grasping for details as they fly out of my brain. By the time I’ve got my own bag packed, I can hardly even see a picture of what I was dreaming in my head. All I’ve got is a head of dark hair in my lap, and tiny freckles. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and water.

“Let’s go,” Lou says, dragging me toward the door.

I’m still caught up on the boy, but I let my feet carry myself after her.


	24. Dan's POV

As the sun sets upon the castle, I decide to turn in my robes and take a shower. The word “party” has been thrown around all day and there was no way I’m wearing my Slytherin tie or my sweater vest. 

The warm water feels like lava against my skin, burning in the best way, the perfect distraction from the churning anxiety inside my chest. I haven’t spoken more than a handful of words to Phil in the last 24 hours, and the thought of being in close proximity with him for an extended period of time creates a feeling in my stomach so prominent that it’s threating to send my ham and potatoes back up. I swallow hard.

I decide on a pair of black jeans and black tee shirt to match. I’m not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but if someone happens to think I look mysterious in an enticing way, well, I can’t help that. 

After showering, getting dressed and letting my hair dry, the clock reads 9:19. Our meetup time was 9:30 at the end of the corridor on the seventh floor.

I slip my shoes on and slip out of the dorm, out of the common room, and begin my ascent to the seventh floor. 

When I get there, it’s 9:26, and I start pacing the corridor. No one is here, I’m the only one, and I look like a bloody idiot.

When 9:35 hits, and no one is here, I begin to get annoyed. I’ve paced the corridor at least 50 times, surely this is some kind of joke.

Fuck.

I remember Louise’s words, “Think of needing a place to have fun with friends.”

“Why?” I had asked.

She giggled, “Just trust me.”

I stare at my feet, like always. Idiot.

I keep pacing, this time thinking hard of needing a place to hang out with my friends. I think of having fun, laughing, sitting around with the people I care about. I think of Phil, and his toothy grins and contagious laugh.

Suddenly, a door appears at the end of the corridor, right before my eyes, and it stops me in my tracks. I hesitate, unsure, but then begin to make my way towards it, resting my hand upon the handle when I get there, taking a deep breath.

When I open the door, I’m met with the smell of fire whiskey and citrus. There’s chairs and beanbags, bodies littered among them, and there’s music playing, some pop song I don’t know the name of.

Phil is sitting on a couch, Dodge next to him, Louise and Ben in beanbags across from them. There’s a beanbag left empty, next to Louise and across from Phil. I straighten my shirt.

“Ah, Dan! There you are!” Louise waves me over, and I walk, though I can’t feel my feet.

“Finally, we thought you’d fallen down the toilet or something.” Dodge chuckles, and so does Ben. I notice Phil just stares at me.

“Ha, ha.” I say, only letting some of my irritation scratch the surface. 

“Alright, so, now can the party begin?” Ben says.

I notice there’s other people here, ones I don’t know. I vaguely recognize some girls from my house, though I think they’re a year above me, the rest are Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, leaving Phil and Louise the only Hufflepuffs present.

“Yes, I’d say so.” Dodge jumps up, and I watch as he shoots a wink back at Phil, who seems to be in a constant state of blush. I try to push away the anger before it’s even begun.

Dodge walks towards another group of people, who are all holding bottles of what I’m assuming is alcohol, and I try to ignore my peripheral vision as I see Phil turn toward me.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. What I can’t ignore, sadly, is a direct question.

I force the biggest smile I can in his direction. “I’m fine. And you?”

He seems taken aback by my enthusiasm, but I ignore his looks of confusion.

“I’m…swell. This isn’t really my scene, so I’m kind of out of my element.”

I roll my eyes and keep my smile so big it’s starting to hurt my cheeks. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Besides, you have such great company.” I can taste the bitterness on my tongue, and as if on que, Dodge walks back to his spot beside Phil, a bottle of fire whiskey and two joints in his hands. 

“Who’s up for some shots?”

*

Half a bottle of fire whiskey and two joints in, I’m feeling pretty good. As much as I sometimes hate to admit to fun, I can’t help but laugh at everything the people in the circle are saying, even if it’s not particularly funny. I just can’t keep the giggles inside me, I feel like a little kid. 

Phil seems to be in the same boat as I am, stopping his laughter only to say, “Dan, oh my god, you’re so crossed.”

“Shut uuupp.” I manage before being thrown into another fit of laughter, which Phil joins.

“How do you feel?” Louise pokes my side. She’s just as drunk and high as me, and she has a few deep purple hickeys on her neck from where Ben has been tracing his mouth. 

“I feel sooo good.” I smile, the hurt in my cheeks genuine this time. I look around the circle at everyone, and I think about how I genuinely do feel good, even if I haven’t said one truthful thing today besides the fact that I feel okay in this moment, and even if I’m not the one with my hand on Phil’s thigh, which I noticed Dodge had grabbed just minutes ago.

It’s fine. I’m okay. There are more important things in the world than someone liking me back. 

Like me back, though. Please, for the love of all things magic, like me the fuck back.

“Alright, clockwise rotation everyone, pass the bottle. And if you skip your shot, you have toooo…” Dodge trails off, looking over at Phil. “What should they have to do, Lester?” he’s moving his hand up Phil’s thigh ever so slightly, but I notice within a millisecond. I clear my throat quietly. Phil looks at me, though.

“They should,” Phil starts, then looks away from me, and back at Dodge, who’s tightened his grip. “Take off one item of clothing.”

Dodge practically barks with laughter, placing a sloppy kiss on Phil’s neck. “I like the way you think. Here, you can go first.”

Dodge passes the bottle to Phil, who takes a giant swig without hesitation. We’re all at least 6 or 7 shots in at this point, and if any of us plan on remembering tonight, we should cut down soon.

Good thing I have nothing I want to remember.

Phil passes the bottle to me, and I take a drink bigger than I should, feeling the liquid burn down my throat and settle somewhere between my chest and stomach, leaving a warm and fiery sensation in my sternum. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Louise’s turn is next, and she complies, and so does Ben, and then it’s the two Slytherin girls, one Ravenclaw boy, and a Gryffindor couple who have only stopped making out to take their shots.

Then, it’s back to Dodge. “I can’t believe you guys are lasting this long, I’d have thought you were all light weights.” Dodge takes the biggest drink of all of us, passing it to Phil.

“What gave you that impression?” I say it before I even think about it, staring down and picking a piece of thread from the rip in my jeans. 

“Oh, I don’t know. The lack of muscle definition, or body hair, or maybe it’s the whopping height of 5’9.” He was deliberately calling me out, the fucking prick. Phil passes me the bottle, looking apologetic. I snatch it.

“Is that a fucking challenge?” I meet Dodge’s eyes this time, letting everything icy and fueled by rage inside me surface to my face, my eyes becoming daggers and my mouth set in a hard line.

“I’d like to see you try.” Dodge leans forward on his knees, intrigued. I bring the bottle to my lips and chug at least 4 shots worth of alcohol, only stopping when the burning my throat becomes too much to handle, but not letting one once of discomfort cross my face. When I bring the bottle down, I still have his gaze.

“Practically pumpkin juice.” I say, handing the bottle to Louise without even looking.

Dodge slow claps, as if to mock me further. “Alright, Howell. Let’s see how much longer you last. If I had to guess,” he stops mid-sentence to give Phil another kiss on the neck, and I see his tongue escape his mouth, tracing a long line up Phil’s neck to his ear. Phil visibly shivers and it feels like someone’s set a match to the alcohol in my chest. “I’d say not much longer.”

I smirk. “What’re you trying to do, make me jealous?” I have confidence in this moment, but I know if I ever remember the happenings of right now, I’ll curse myself for even putting the thought into any of these people’s heads. Me, jealous of Dodge? Honestly! How…pathetic. 

“I just know you’re not too fond of sharing your toys.” Dodge hisses.

I practically have to force the scoff out of my mouth I’m filled with so much anxiety. Phil looks slightly offended at being called a ‘toy’, but he’s looked slightly uncomfortable all night, no thanks to this sleazy prick and his wandering hands. “No, thanks.” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Besides, he’s not mine. Phil Lester is free range.”

I don’t meet Phil’s gaze, but I do watch as Dodge leans over and grabs Phil’s chin in his hands. “You’re right,” He kisses Phil on the mouth, right there in front of me, and I can feel my hands tightening on my own legs, squeezing so hard you’d think I was trying to shatter my knee cap. “He’s mine.”  
Phil’s face floods with surprise, and he says, “That’s enough, whatever you two have against each other is ruining the mood. Louise, keep passing.” He ignores the conversation that just took place, jumping right over it.

They keep passing; Dodge, then Phil, then me, then Louise, then Ben and the others…

It’s right about now that I start to really feel those chugs kicking in. The room is swaying like we’re all in a snow globe and some snot-nosed kid keeps shaking us. I don’t think I could stand up even if I tried.

No one ends up taking their clothes off, and the Ravenclaw boy rolls a few more joints, handing one directly to me, another to Louise and Ben, and one to Phil and Dodge. I light mine immediately.

The circle disperses, some of them getting up to dance like idiots, Louise and Ben moving to a bigger couch by themselves, and Phil and Dodge migrate over to the far wall. I stay where I am.

I can’t help but stare – I know it does me absolutely no good, and if I were more sober, I might be able to tear my eyes away, but I don’t. They’re kissing each other, hard and fast, Phil pinned between the wall and Dodge. They both move like they’re hungry, insatiable. 

I watch as Dodge brings his hand up to Phil’s hair, running his fingers through the black, pulling backwards slightly to expose more of Phil’s pale neck. 

I take a drag off my joint, holding the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can without coughing, before blowing outwards, directly towards them. Not that they notice.

I watch as Phil breathes heavier, I watch as Dodge traces his hands up Phil’s chest…I even watch as he begins to undo the top most buttons of Phil’s shirt, right fucking there in the middle of this stupid fucking “party”. 

Before I can stop myself, my brain is telling my feet to move. I stand up, and then I fall down, and then I climb back up again. This must be some kind of joke, surely the floor isn’t actually being tugged from beneath my feet. 

I stumble over to where they are against the wall, the walk feeling miles long, and when I get there, I grab a fistful of Dodges shirt, yanking him to the side, away from Phil. “Enough,” I say.

“Excuse me?” Dodge pushes me back, the palms of his hands knocking a good majority of the air out of my chest.

“E-fucking-nough.” I say, standing as tall as I can in the face of a boy with arm muscles bigger than my thighs.

“Who the fuck d’you think you are?” he’s slurring, and I know I am too.

“He’s not fucking into you, Popeye.” 

“Dan, please-“ Phil starts, only to get interrupted. 

“What the fuck do you know, Howell? Tell me one fucking thing you know about what he wants.” Dodge points his finger right in Phil’s face, who looks between the two of us like he wishes he could just disappear. My heart falters.

“Whatever it is, it’s not you. Jus’ let him be.” I say.

“Hey, guess the fuck what,” Dodge begins. “Something tells me you’re wrong.” He casts his eyes downward, and I look at him with such anger and confusion, before finally following his gaze.

My heart nearly stops in my chest at the outline of Phil’s half-hard dick.

I shoot my eyes back at Dodge, all of the anger in my body running through me at once, like electricity. I could power a whole fucking city with my body.

“What?” he asks. “Cat got your tongue?” He whispers close to my ear, and I’ve had enough.

I grab Phil’s wrist and pull with everything in me, which isn’t much, but he doesn’t put up any fight. “We’re leaving.” I say.

“It’s not impressive, you know,” Dodge calls after us. “taking someone’s sloppy seconds!”

I stop dead in my tracks, whipping around to look at this dick head dead in the face. “Is that what he is to you?” I begin, not for a second dropping Phil’s wrist, or looking at him. “Something you throw away when you’re done?”

“And what is he to you? Something to ignore when it benefits you? Face it Howell, you’re a fucking faggot, you’re just too much of a tight-wound pussy to admit it.”

This time, I do let go of Phil’s wrist, only to walk closer to Dodge on the off chance that I may get to punch the lights out of him. “You don’t know one thing about me.”

“Oh, but I do.” Dodge doesn’t seem to want to back down either, taking a few steps closer to me. I can smell his breath. I can see the veins in his eyes. “Just admit it, you want Lester to fuck you senseless,” He gets closer, his mouth practically on my ear. “And you’re fucking gay.”

I have no hesitation between the end of his sentence and when I kick my foot up between his legs. Dodge yelps, grabbing his crouch and falling to the ground. “No one likes a smart ass.”

I grab Phil’s wrist again, who’s face is alight with excitement from the argument. He’s just drunk.

I don’t look at anyone’s faces as we leave, I’m too angry to focus on anything than the door directly in front of me.

When we reach it, I pull Phil out, and we watch it fade away from the wall altogether. I’m breathing heavy, and I run back up to the wall the door was once a part of, smashing my fist into it.

“Fuck!” I yell, cradling my hand to my chest. “Great, fucking-“

“Wha's your problem?” Phil blurts.

I turn to him, still holding my own hand. “I’m sorry?”


	25. Phil's POV

“I said, what’s your problem?”

There’s at least three Dans standing in front of me right now, and I’m trying to focus on the middle one, but it’s hard when my head is pulsing so much. Are the corridor’s always this bright?

Images are running around in my head. I’m finding that I can’t quite catch up with what just happened. I try to focus hard, and I can pull out Dodge’s hands up my shirt, the feeling of his dick pressed against the inside of my thigh through his jeans. I remember his mouth being pulled away from mine quickly and an angry exchange between him and Dan…what was that about again?

“I don’t have a problem, Lester,” Dan grumbles, and as soon as I focus on him, I can see he’s got purple knuckles. Right, he punched the wall. The flash of him kicking Dodge comes back to me in a second, and I want to laugh. Shouldn’t I want to defend Dodge? Maybe it’s just how drunk I am…

“You sure seem like you do,” I slur out, and I want to giggle at how stupid my voice sounds. Dan drank and smoked even more than me, but somehow, he’s standing steady. I feel like someone’s swapped out the bones in my legs for Jell-O.

“Aren’t you sick of hanging around someone who doesn’t care about anything beyond getting into your pants?” he says, and it takes me a moment to fully process what he’s saying.

“You mean Dodge?”

“Fucking hell, Phil, can you try to focus for a second, who else would I be talking about?”

I’m startled by his aggression, and some part of my brain tries to push through the cloudy haze in my head. This feels too important to not remember tomorrow morning.

“Dodge doesn’t just want to get in my pants,” I say, furrowing my eyebrows. Dan rolls his eyes at my response. I can’t lie, he’s cute when he’s exasperated like this.

“Oh, come off it, everyone can see it from a mile away. He never stops fucking touching you.” His face is dark. Yeah, I guess Dodge is pretty handsy. I suppose I didn’t think Dan noticed that sort of thing, but…he notices that sort of thing. Huh.

“Alright, so what then. At least he likes me,” I mumble. I feel my chest burning with embarrassment. I know it’s naïve to be with someone just for the attention, but it’s hard to be one of the only out kids at school.

“He’s no good for you!” Dan says, throwing his arms up, “Merlin, you can be so fucking thick. He’s using you for an easy fuck, Phil!”

I feel angry. I don’t know if it’s because I know what Dan is saying is true, or because the alcohol is turning the embarrassment in my chest into something else. Maybe it’s both. Dan opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off, my brain clearing a little from being so pissed.

“Don’t act like you know anything about him – or me!” I say, fuming. I take a step closer to him, suddenly more aware of the gap in our height than ever. “You don’t get to tell me what’s good for me when every other day you can’t be bothered to speak to me because you’re so wound up about something. You have no idea what it’s like to be out at school, you have no idea what it’s like to not have anybody look at you the way you want them to. You have no. Fucking. Idea.” I jab my finger into his chest with these last three words.

He won’t meet my eyes. He’s focused down on the floor, his fists balled at his side. There’s a fleeting moment when I think he might hit me.

“Yes, I do. I fucking do, Phil.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask him to. Words fly around my head, ones I know that have come from Dan’s mouth “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool…If you’re trying to win me over, you’re not doing a very good job…Maybe I don’t have a strict type…Is that what he is to you? Someone to throw away when you’re done?”

I pull something else out from the drunken maze that is my brain. Dodge called Dan a faggot. Something icy spreads over my chest, and I feel angrier than before.

I feel everything slide into place.

“Dan…” I start, and I’m trying desperately not to let my words slur now. This is too important. Fuck those last few shots. “Are you…do you like blokes?”

He just looks at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. It’s like he’s seen a ghost. I take a step toward him, but he steps back.

“Why would you – I don’t…why would you ask me that?”

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous!”

“That’s still not an answer.”

My heart is hammering so hard in my chest that I feel like all of the alcohol might come back up. I swallow. If he’s gay…and at this point I’m pretty sure he is…

I think back to the head of curls in my dream. My head feels warm.

He’s still looking at me, his two eyes flicking between each of mine. He licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t…know exactly,” he says, and I let myself release a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“What do you know?” I reply. My arms feel too long by my sides. I should be doing something with my hands. I move to put them in my pockets, and then drop them again at my side.

“I know…” he’s breathless now, even though he’s hardly said five words. The space between us isn’t nearly as far as I thought it was. “I know I like you.” 

There’s a second where I don’t know what to say. I know what I’m supposed to say, but my brain isn’t exactly functioning properly considering how much alcohol is pumping through my veins and the fact that this sweet, beautiful boy in front of me has just confessed his feelings.

Fuck, he’s still looking at me expectantly. I can see his brain running marathons as he waits for me to say something. Phil, say something already.

“You what?”

Real smooth.

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

I can see all of his little freckles in the moonlight here. They dance across his nose, all the way up his cheekbones. Freckly boy.

“You could say something, you know,” he says, and while I know he’s trying to play it off, there’s a strained note behind his voice. “Instead of just…staring.”

Am I staring? I can’t really wrap my head around anything that I’m doing. All I can think about is how badly I want to touch his freckled cheek.

“Phil?”

Have I still not responded?

“Hi, Dan,” I finally say.

“Hey, Phil.”

“You like me.”

“Yeah, I do,” his cheeks are pink. Were they like that already from the alcohol?

“That’s good.”  
“I’m glad you think so.”

Silence.

I glance behind me at where the door to the magic room has vanished. It would seem we’re alone.

I guess I could blame it on how drunk I am, but I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t say there was more than just that factor involved. After all, I am pretty smitten for Dan.

So, I’ll use that to explain why I turn back toward him, close the small amount of distance between us, and lean down to press my mouth against his. His back hits the wall of the corridor behind him, and I put one of my hands against it, the other cupping his cheek in my palm. His mouth is so warm.

He's kissing me back, and he’s really fucking good at it, and I don’t really know what I’m doing because I’m drunk and new at this, but I lift him up and his legs find their way around my waist, his back still pushed into the stone wall. I let my mouth trail down his jaw to his neck. His fingers are laced in the back of my hair, and it feels fucking incredible. I start to suck gently at a spot by his collarbone, and he lets out a noise that makes me want to pin him against the wall harder.

Merlin, I don’t know where that came from.

Dan presses himself against me, and it’s bloody wonderful until my Jell-O legs return, and I feel my head spin again. I stumble a little and I feel him smile against my lips, dropping his legs from my waist, he offers me his hand to steady myself.

“You good?” he asks, his face completely flushed.

“Incredible, but very drunk still,” I say, grateful for his hand.

“Not so drunk that you won’t…remember this, right?”

“I don’t think this is something I could easily forget,” I reply, and I immediately wish I hadn’t said something so forward.

I glance up at Dan, and I feel a little less embarrassed when I see how wide his smile is.

With one last glance at the door, I grip Dan’s hand in my own, “Come with me,” I say, pulling him down along a corridor. I try a couple of doors before tumbling into an unlocked one, Dan following suit.

I close the door behind him and turn around. He’s looking up at me with those brown eyes, his mouth slightly open, and I don’t hesitate as I lean down to kiss him this time, pulling his face to mine with both of my hands.  
I know it’s sloppy because I’m drunk, but it’s also so much more wonderful than anything I could have imagined. We’ve drank so much tonight, but his mouth still somehow tastes like toothpaste – he’s always minty.

Dan is blatantly submissive, which I definitely do not mind. He lets me lead, so I do, pulling him by the front of his shirt to a desk and lifting him up so he’s seated on it, me between his legs. I think about what else I could be doing between his legs and my heart beats more quickly still. I think I’ll save that for a night when my courage isn’t fueled strictly by booze. That is to say, if I get more nights like this with him. I hope I do.

He’s leaning back on one of his hands, pulling me forward over the desk to reach him so his hips are pressed right against mine. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I press my hips against him in response and he moans softly against my mouth. Merlin, he could drive me mad with that.

I wonder if Dan has ever kissed a boy before this. I know he was with that Bellatrix girl, but I don’t know about any of his prior escapades with blokes. The thought that I could be his first kiss like this is thrilling. I open my mouth more.

Dan kisses like he’s dying of thirst and I’m the only spring in a hundred-mile radius. He pulls at my shirt and my hair, trying to close every gap between us. He’d be fun to tease if my head wasn’t so full of longing for his touch. I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to. Which, I definitely don’t.

I kiss Dan until my mouth feels bruised and the sky outside has started to lighten. Dan’s got my lip between his teeth when I finally hear Lou and the rest of the group pass by our classroom. He snaps away from me and I stumble forward a little.

“You okay?” I say, looking over at him, a little confused. Everyone’s voices are starting to fade down the corridor, and I see him take a breath. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says softly. There’s a purple hickey at his collarbone, and I smile a little at it. I reach forward, touching it lightly with my finger.

“Have fun keeping Slughorn from seeing that during Potions,” I say, chuckling. The thrill of alcohol has started to fade, leaving my head with a dull ache.

He claps his hand to his neck, his eyes wide, “What?”

“Relax, I’m joking, your shirt collar will hide it.”

I can’t help but feel a little awkward. Is he embarrassed about what happened? He’s the one who said he liked me…so why would he be acting so strangely now?

“We should probably head back to the dormitories,” I say, tugging down the side of my shirt that Dan had slipped his hands under. There’s a weirdness between us now that I wish would go away. I want to rewind to five minutes ago when he was still underneath me, pulling me closer.  
“Yeah, I bet Lou is wondering where you are.”

I open the door, peering out to quickly assess if there’s any teachers patrolling. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I make to grab for Dan’s hand, but instead I hesitate and just beckon him to follow.

We walk down toward the dungeons in mostly silence, our footsteps echoing up the stone walls. I glance over to Dan as we walk, but he keeps his head down, concentrating on his shoes. I feel guilty. What if he didn’t want to kiss me in the first place? Was I too assertive? My stomach feels like a knot.

The entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room comes first, and I stop, Dan hovering uncertainly next to me.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say, wishing he’d meet my eyes. He nods his head and turns to go, but I reach out, gripping his hand loosely.

“You know…this doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” I say, even though it’s a lie. There’s no way this couldn’t mean something to me.

“I know,” he says, which definitely isn’t the response I was looking for. I drop his hand, and he looks up at me. “It did, though,” he finishes, offering me a little smile. I’ll take it.

He leans up and kisses my cheek softly, “See you tomorrow,” he says before starting down the hall.


	26. Dan's POV

The next morning, I awake from a dream-less sleep. No Phil, no kissing, no nothing. 8 hours of the backs of my eyelids, and I’ve woken up to a pounding headache in the back of my skull.

Even though I shouldn’t, considering the amount of fire whiskey I drank, I remember the majority of last night. I remember rising to the challenge and chugging 4 shots in one. I remember being angry at Dodge and kicking him in the dick. I remember standing up for Phil, who was obviously uncomfortable the entire night.

Phil. I remember kissing Phil. And telling him I liked him. My stomach churns with the memory and a full body cringe chills me to my core. Fuck.

We didn’t just kiss, either. We made out, body to body on top of some poor students’ desk in some random classroom on the seventh floor, and for a long while, too. 

Phil knows I like him. Phil knows I like him. He knows. And he kissed me. He kissed me back.

I can feel my heart beating faster just sitting here thinking about it, and I jump up to take a shower, immediately regretting my actions, because the minute I’m on my feet I fall to my knees, snatching the bin nearest me and hurling every bit of last night up my throat and into it.

I’ve never had a hangover, but I’m certain this is it. I’m dizzy as I half hunch, half walk to the bathroom, trailing my school clothes behind me, and I try my hardest to keep the rest of the vomit in my stomach before I’m properly bent over a toilet.

Thankfully, I don’t throw up on my way there, but I do end up getting rid of the rest of it in the shower, quickly jumping out of the way as not to get my feet dirty.

After cleaning up my mess and getting dressed, I procrastinate going down to breakfast.

I have to, though, as I know I need to cure this hangover somehow, and nothing sounds better right now than some greasy bacon and toast. 

I take my time getting to the kitchen, though, fully stopping in front of the giant doors when a question pops into my head.

What happens now?

Do I sit with Phil? Does Louise know? What am I supposed to talk about? What will he say? Does he even want to say anything?

A couple kids burst through the dining hall doors, leaving it open, creating a clear and direct view from the Hufflepuff table to me. I think about letting the doors close and giving myself a few more minutes to ponder, but when I see Louise’s hand shoot up and wave me down, I know I can’t turn back now. Phil looks my way a half a second later. I’ve been caught.

I walk over to the table, trying desperately hard to look anywhere but the faces of my friends. Friends? Is that what he is? I make a mental note to check on that a different time.

“You feelin’ just as awful as I am today, Danny?” Louise asks from across the table as I take a seat next to Phil, who smells of his citrus shampoo and slightly of stale alcohol.

“Probably worse, considering I chugged half that bottle in 10 seconds.” Without looking at Phil, I reach across him and grab two pieces of toast and four pieces of bacon.

“Surely not bad enough to skip potions though, right?” Phil asks from beside me. I turn to look at him slowly, and he looks expectant, like he has been waiting for an acknowledgement this whole time. I give him a half smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Ugh, remind me to never drink again, babe.” Louise leans on Ben, who has been passively giving me the death glare since I sat down. I suppose if someone kicked my best mate in the balls, I’d be pretty biased too. Except my best mate would never throw people away like garbage, so I give Ben a sickly-sweet smile just for good measure. 

They talk around me, and I can’t help but crawl back into my head, the feeling of Phil sitting next to me weighing me down like a bag of bricks.

No one in Hogwarts knows what we did last night. No one knows for sure like I like Phil, except for Phil. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m gay, I have too little of friends as it is, and one very confusing…confidant?

I might be a wimp, pansy if you will, but I definitely do not want the treatment Phil received during his first years here, and I’ll do just about anything to make sure that doesn’t happen.

And not just that, but if anyone knew, if anyone even remotely related to a powerful wizarding family found out, and then my father found out…

I gulp at the thought.

In the midst of my internal panic, I feel a cold hand come to rest on my leg, just above my knee. Before I can stop myself or think twice, I pull my leg away, my eyes darting up to Phil’s as I whisper, “What are you doing?”

He looks just as confused as my heart feels. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t do that,” I say, keeping my legs to myself, inching a bit further away from Phil than I want to.

I don’t want any of this. I want to reach out and touch his milky skin with the back of my hand, feel how warm and soft he still is from sleep. I want to kiss his mouth again, because the memories of last night are foggy, and I can’t quite remember his taste. 

But I keep to myself, focusing on nothing more than the feeling of chewed up bread inside my mouth and the fear that anyone in this room could have seen the tiny amount of affection that’s already been shown. It’d be too late anyway.

I can barely hear Phil as he mutters a, “Sorry.” 

I finish my food in a matter of seconds, telling the group that I’d see them in class. 

As I leave, the feeling of Phil’s hand lingers on my thigh, like it’s burning a hole through the fabric of my pants. I’d do anything right now to put it out, and yet, I wish he’d do it again, just to feed the flames. 

*

By the time potions rolls around I’m considering just skipping all together, but I know Slughorn would never let me live it down. 

I wonder if Phil will even sit by me at all after what I pulled at breakfast, and I’ll be honest, I feel something settle in my chest when he sits down next to me, albeit silently. I think it’s relief.

He doesn’t say a word to me for the first half an hour, though I can feel something thick lingering in the air.

The silence between us lasts so long, even while brewing our potion, and I think he just might get by without saying anything to me at all, then he turns his head towards me.

“What’s your deal?” He whispers, probably so Louise can’t hear.

My stomach sinks. We can’t have this conversation here, where there’s 50 other people around to hear. 

“I don’t have one, Phil.” I whisper back, acting overly invested in the proportions of frog feet I’m measuring out for the potion. 

“I kiss you once and don’t speak one word to me all day, you actively avoid my gaze, my touch, my—”

“Can we not do this right now?” I’m looking at his eyes now, big swirling pools of blue, with yellow and green around the middle, a kaleidoscope of color. I look away before they wash me out to sea.

“I’m asking a question. If I did something, something to make you uncomfortable… if you don’t feel that way—”

“It’s not like that Phil, you haven’t done anything. I just, it’s me okay I just—”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you it’s me crap, Dan, if you don’t like me just tell me. If it was some kind of drunken act of impulse then just—”

“Not now, please.” I give him a pleading look. “Please. I’ll tell you whatever you want later, just not here. Not right now.” Phil stares at me. “Please.”

He looks for a moment longer, then scoffs and turns his attention back to our assignment. “Whatever, Dan.”

I force myself to focus on the bubbling liquid in front of me, slowly adding more ingredients until it’s complete.

When the bell rings, Phil wastes no time slinging his bag over his shoulder and darting out of the room, leaving me to turn in our potion by myself.

By the time I’m out of the room and in the hallway, even on my tip-toes I can’t spot the familiar mess of black hair. He’s gone. He’s pissed and he’s gone. 

I don’t give up though, I walk down every hall on the floor, making my way down when I don’t find him here. I leave the castle, I walk along the grounds, groups of giggling wizards on the lawn with books and sandwiches, Phil amongst none of them. I almost give up my search when I see a flash of yellow and black, a Hufflepuff scarf, peeking out from behind a giant tree near the lake. 

I make my way over to him, my hands sweating and my heart beating so fast I think it might explode inside my chest, and that when they do my autopsy, they’ll find fragments of it littered all throughout my body. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. 

I stop next to him, and he looks up at me, jumping onto his feet the moment he sees who it is.

“Phil,”

“Oh, you’re ready now?”

“Don’t be like that.” I roll my eyes and regret it almost immediately. I don’t want him to think I’m not taking this seriously. 

“You’re so hot and cold.” I can tell he’s angry, and he’s definitely not attempting to keep his voice from raising. I clench my fists in embarrassment. “You act all buddy-buddy with me one second and act like you don’t know me the next! It’s like a game you like to play, one that I can never win! Do you know how infuriating it is to wake up every morning and wonder which version of you I’m going to get?”

It’s the Gemini, I think.

It hurts a bit, I’ll admit. But he’s right. I’m all over the place, especially around him. I can’t help it. I can’t. He makes me so happy and so mad all at once. 

“Have you ever thought maybe it’s just as exhausting for me? I’m the one who has to deal with everything going on inside my head, and most of it is your fault anyway!”

“My fault?! Do not try and blame me for whatever the fuck it is you’re going through, Howell. That’s on you. I haven’t done anything.”

“Howell? Is that what I am now?”

“What else should I be calling you? Cause you definitely don’t act like my friend.”

“Yeah, friends don’t fucking kiss each other.”

“Oh, are we in that territory now? That’s a topic open for discussion? Or are you going to shy away again?”

I move closer to him, almost chest to chest. I’m fuming, and bright red I’m sure. My mind is ablaze. “We can’t all skip around wearing our queerness like a fucking badge of honor. Do you know what would happen to me if people found out? I’d—”

“What? Be a loser like me? You think I wanted people to know I like boys? You think I asked for the constant punching and pushing and nights of crying myself to sleep? Sorry to burst your bubble, Dan, but I didn’t exactly wish on a star for this life.”

“People can’t know, Phil. They can’t. I’m not you, I’m not,” I think for a moment. “strong.”

“It’s not strength, Dan. It’s immunity.”

I turn around, walking a few steps away from him before turning back again. “It’s complicated.”

“What is?”

I can’t answer, I don’t know how to. Everything’s complicated, my entire existence is complicated, and I can‘t explain any of it.

“You’re scared.” He says, and I know it’s out of anger, but it hurts nonetheless. “You’re scared to be who you are. You’re scared of what other people will think of you.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Then what’re you doing? I know you remember last night.” My face flushes, and I want to run away, far away and keep running until my knees grind to dust and I can’t carry on. 

“Stop,” I start.

“Stop what? I was there, you were there. I kissed you,” he steps closer to me, and my breath catches in my throat. “and you kissed back.”

I stare at him, thinking of anything to say. “You’re so attentive.” It’s dripping in sarcasm, but it’s something. 

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What do you want me to do, Phil? You want me to frolic around the grounds swinging hand-in-hand with you? I’m not that kind of person.”

“I want you to be honest with me, for once in the last 3 years that I’ve known you. You wriggle yourself out of every conversation that makes you uncomfortable, you hide away until things settle down and you can go back to acting like everything’s okay.” Phil moves even closer. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

I swallow. “What do you want to know?” I know what he’ll say, but I ask anyway.

“Did you mean it? The kiss?”

I wait a moment before answering, probably a little too long, but I need to. I just need to.

“Yeah.” I say, and it’s the first honest thing I’ve said in months.

“Do you…like me?”

“Yeah, Phil, I do.” I really do, I think, I really, really fucking do. I like you so much I don’t know what to do sometimes. Sometimes when I’m around you I forget to breathe, I forget how to think, I forget how to exist. I fade away completely, in the most blissful, euphoric way. I don’t say any of this, though. I leave it at that.

“So, what’s the problem? Why do you act like we’re both not feeling the same thing?” 

I smirk, because he admits it. “So, you like me back.” I’m properly smiling now.

“Don’t be dumb.” He says, giving me a push. “You’re too smart.”

“You’re right,” I start. “I’m scared, but not for the reasons you think I am.”


	27. Phil's POV

It was a like a punch in the stomach when Dan didn’t even look at me on his way into the Great Hall this morning. I expected…I don’t know what I expected. Not the avoidance of my eyes or the way he pulled away from my hand. He acted like my fingers burned him, flinching away from me without any give.

I wonder if he really wanted to kiss me last night, or if it was just the alcohol. I guess I didn’t bother to ask in the moment. That thought makes my stomach roil now. I should have asked. I should have made sure that he wanted me to kiss him.

“Did you mean it? The kiss?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can reign them in, tripping over one another in an effort to fill up the awkward space between us.

There’s a pause, one that’s far too long for comfort. I’m about to ask him if he heard me when he finally answers, not looking at me. He won’t fucking look at me.

“Yeah,” he replies. Even though he sounds embarrassed to say it, my chest unknots at his words. Not only did he want to kiss me, but it meant something to him, too. Something more than randiness fueled by firewhiskey. 

“Do you…like me?” I want to bite off my tongue. C’mon, Phil, hold back a little, yeah? My hands are shoved deep in the pockets of my robes. My fists are tightly closed, worrying the fabric with my thumb.

This time he doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, Phil, I do.” I want to smile, but I don’t because even though what he’s saying is making my heart dance around inside of me, his face is all twisted in the wrong ways. The dimples in his cheeks aren’t showing, so his face looks too empty, and his mouth is in a stiff line. I wish he’d just smile at me. His whole face is so light when he smiles. 

I get a fleeting flash of the small framed picture he has on his bedside table. I’ve only seen it once, the only time I’ve been in Dan’s room, when he forgot his Potions book before class. In it, he stands beside his mother and father, his little brother beside him. None of them are smiling. That’s how he looks now.

“So, what’s the problem? Why do you act like we’re both not feeling the same thing?” It comes out more aggressive than I mean it to. I don’t want him to think I’m angry (even though I am, but mostly at myself). I take a shaky breath.

He’s smirking now, and it’s sweet. I have to hold back from doing the same. C’mon, Dan, show me those teeth.

“So, you like me back.” There it is. That’s his real smile, dimples and all. My whole body warms. I take my hands out of my pockets, wishing I could hold his head against my chest. I settle for a little shove against his shoulder instead.

“Don’t be dumb, you’re too smart,” I say, even though what I’m really dying to do is push my mouth against his.  
“You’re right. I’m scared, but not for the reasons you think I am,” he’s looking back at the ground now, his smile gone. Just as quickly, my stomach feels like ice. What does he mean by that?

“What do you mean by that?” I blurt out.

He bites at his bottom lip. They’re always chapped, but they don’t feel that way when he’s kissing me.

“I’m not like you,” he says softly, his eyes flickering up to mine before falling back to the ground heavily. He looks sullen, and he leans back against the tree before sliding down the trunk until he’s seated. Something stirs in my mind, an afternoon I spent down here, my back in the same place as his, watching those two seventh-year boys throw each other love eyes from across the grounds. What I would give for it to feel that easy between Dan and I now. I lower myself down to sit near him, making sure I’m not too close.

“What do you mean?” I ask after a moment. He’s pulling at a loose thread on the end of his robes, the stitches unravelling as he makes the string longer and longer.

“I’m not…prideful. I can hardly walk around with my head up now, how am I s’posed to do it with the whole school knowing I’m…”

He lets the sentence die. I have a feeling he hasn’t even said the words to himself yet. That’s okay. I couldn’t do that at first either.

“Is that what you think I am, Dan?” I ask, and I’m surprised to hear the hurt in my own voice. I don’t know what about me gives him the impression that I’m proud. Is it prideful to take a beating from a homophobe every other week? Or to let people throw slurs at you? I didn’t think so, but maybe that’s what he sees. He’s got his face in his hands now, and I’m afraid he might start crying.

“No,” he says, and his voice comes out frustrated, not sad at all, “that’s not what I meant. I just – you don’t get it, Phil. Martyn doesn’t care, but Adrian would sell me down the river in a heartbeat.”

“You don’t want your brother to know?”

“I don’t want anyone to know!” His voice is angry, and I shrink away from it, each word stinging like a whip. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he likes me. He’s embarrassed of me.

“Do you know what my father would do to me if he found out?” he says, and he really is crying now, his face all screwed-up and red. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid if I touch him to try and comfort him, he’ll just get angrier. I fold my hands in my lap, trying to mask the way my fingers are shaking.

“He would kick me out! Probably beat the shit out of me! I’m disappointment enough as it is now. Do you think he’d understand if he knew I was a- a fucking queer? He’d rather kill me than let that get out! It would ruin his fucking image, it would make our family a fucking black mark.” His face is covered in tears, his voice cracking on every other word. It’s terrifying to watch him like this. I have no idea what to say.

“Dan, I didn’t-“

“Of course, you didn’t know! Why the fuck would I want anyone at this fucking school to know that I come from dark wizards? Why do you think I don’t talk about them? Why do you think I don’t bring Adrian around you guys, even though he’s here now? I can’t have both. I can’t be happy and be a part of my family. I can’t be with you and have a home to go back to.”

He’s taking shaky inhales, trying (and failing) to catch his breath. I would give anything to be able to give him a hug, but I don’t dare. Especially not when we’re outside, where anyone could see us. I’m sure that’s at the front of his mind.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he lets out a quiet sob.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Phil. You’re the only person I feel like myself with. I…All I want is to be able to enjoy that. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

I nod, not knowing what else there is to say. I guess that’s it, then. Things will just go back to the way they were. I don’t remember how to do that. I don’t know if I can, but the last thing I want is for him to feel like he’s got to come out when he isn’t ready. I’m going to be his friend, even if it kills me.

“That’s alright,” I say, my voice sounding warped and falsely easy-going. “I just want you in my life. Just don’t stop being my friend, alright?” I look over to him, praying he can’t see how hard I’m trying to keep from crying. He glances up at me, looking confused.

“No, I mean, of course not…I…okay.” The last word comes out so quiet, I’m not even sure he’s said it. My chest feels like it’s caving in. These past two days have been so up and down. I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking he’d want to be my boyfriend.

“Alright, then we’re all good,” I force a smile, hoping it’s not too wobbly. I glance down at my watch.

“I’m going to head up to Transfiguration, you’ve got Herbology, right?”

“Oh, er…yeah.”

“Swell, I’ll walk you past the greenhouses if you want.”

“Sure.”

He wipes at his face and stands, that same look of confusion etched into his features. We walk in silence, and I barely make it past the greenhouses when the sob starts to bubble in my chest.

I skip Transfiguration.

Louise bursts into the boys’ dormitory just after the bell, looking upset.

“Where were you? I had to sit all by myself!”

“Sorry, Lou, I don’t feel all that well.”

She frowns, perching on the edge of my bed. I’ve got the covers pulled up over my face, not wanting her to see my puffy eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“I think, yeah. Maybe it’s just the lingering hangover.”

“Well, you’re still coming to dinner, right?”

“’Course. Just give me a few to tidy up, yeah?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be in the Common Room, waiting.”

I wait until I hear her starting back up the steps to get out of bed. I comb my fingers through my hair, splash my face with some water, and straighten out my robes before making my way to the Common Room. I paste a smile back on.

“You alright?” she asks me, her voice skeptical.

“I’m good, let’s go eat.”

We walk to the Great Hall, and I feel more grateful for Louise than ever. For once, her endless babble is a blessing, because it gives me reason not to have to open my mouth and lie with every word. I just smile and nod, throwing in a chuckle or a groan every now and then so she knows I’m listening.

We’re a little late to dinner, and I can see Dan sitting nervously at the Hufflepuff table, looking around for us. Lou smiles and waves at him, and I follow suit. I sit down across from him and offer him an overzealous smile.

“How was Herbology?” I ask him, helping myself to some food that I know my rolling stomach wants no part of.

“It was alright, got this nasty cut, though,” he holds up his hand, which is wrapped up in bandage. “The Venomous Tentacula is teething again.” His plate is empty, per usual.  
“Philip totally ditched me for Transfiguration,” Louise says, sniffing and tossing me an agitated glare. Ben slides in next to her, and I flash her my wide eyes, trying to get her to shut up, but she’s too distracted by the arrival of her boyfriend. “I was painfully alone all class.”

Dan turns to me, frowning, “You skipped?”

I throw another fake smile at him, “Yeah, I got a bad migraine. Probably all that firewhiskey, y’know?”

His frown deepens, and I turn my attention to my plate, pushing around my potatoes and trying to look busy.

I can feel Dan’s eyes on me throughout the rest of dinner, and when Lou leaves with Ben early, our section of the table is full to the brim of awkward silence.

“Can we talk?” he asks me, and I look up at him.

“Talk away!” I say, smiling in a way that hurts my cheeks.

“Maybe we can go somewhere less…”

Less what, Dan? Crowded? Public? Full of listening ears?

“Sure! Let’s go,” I stand, my plate still mostly untouched, and he leads the way out of the Great Hall.

I don’t think I’m ready for whatever he’s got to say.


	28. Dan's POV

I lead him outside the Great Hall and around a corner, where we have privacy for the most part. When I stop, he does too, and just stares at me, waiting. “What’s up?”

The fake giddiness in his voice is sickening, sweet like too much sugar in a cup of tea. I want to vomit. Why is he acting so fucking weird?

“What’s up? What’s up with you? We agree to be friends and your whole personality changes. You’re not yourself.”

“What’re you talking about?” He asks like it’s the most ridiculous thing that’s ever come out of my mouth.

I don’t want to raise my voice, so my answer comes out as more of a hiss. “Don’t be fucking daft.” I look around. I desperately want to go somewhere more private, but I don’t want Phil thinking I’m embarrassed of him or this conversation. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Dan, I’m perfectly fine. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know what, fine. That’s fine. Fucking forget it.” I turn to walk away, when Phil grabs on to my wrist and pulls me back.

“Dan,” He looks serious, and the false joy from his voice is gone, replaced with candor. “Just wait.”

“For what? I have no interest in whatever this friendship is, Phil. I can see right through you, you know? This act you’re putting on, for whatever reason, is fucking ridiculous.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

His question takes me by surprise, and I just blink at him, my mind blank, void of any kind of answer. I knew he was gay, I knew he didn’t currently have anyone he was dating, I knew that there was a 50/50 chance he’d like me back, and wouldn’t judge me for liking boys too. There’s no way he could’ve, I’m just like him.

“I…” I start, but I don’t know how to finish. “I didn’t,”

Phil let’s go of my wrist. “Why?” he asks again.

I look away from him, down to my shoes. Always my shoes. My lace is untied. 

“No one should have to live as someone else’s secret.”

“You know I would never make you come out if you weren’t ready, right?”

I look back up to him now. “What?”

“You think I’d force you to tell people?” Phil walks a bit away, but he’s not going anywhere. “I know what it’s like to be outed before you’re ready. I would never wish that upon anyone, especially you. And considering your circumstances are far worse than mine were, I would never even dream of you feeling the need to be that honest in a time in place where you weren’t safe. It probably isn’t the best option for you right now, if you think about it. Which is fine,” He pauses, looking at me. “But I want to be with you regardless.”

“Phil,” I start but he shakes his head, not done with his thought, and he continues.

“I know what you’re going to say, Daniel, and I don’t want to hear it.” He comes back over to where I am, a group of first years walking past us out of the dining hall. “Living in secret with you is a far better option than living openly without.”

“You hardly, you don’t even—”

“What? Know you?” Phil looks hurt. “I know you better than anyone, I’d reckon. And even if that were slightly true,” He’s fully in front of me now, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my nose. “What’s the problem with wanting to get to know you better?”

“It just doesn’t seem…worth it to me. I’m just me, I don’t know. Why would you want to run around kissing me behind closed doors when you could walk hand and hand with someone else right down the halls?”

“Because you’re you, because I haven’t thought about anyone else since I met you. Because if I’ll take you however I can get you, because kissing you behind closed doors is better than not kissing you at all.”

“I just don’t want you to make a mistake. And to be honest Phil, I can’t really handle the idea of you testing this out and deciding it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t expect you to make a choice right now, Dan. I just want you to know that I want you regardless. It’s just not fully my choice to make.”

I roll my eyes, pushing myself off the wall and walking past him a bit. “Well, that’s not a lot of pressure at all.”

“There’s no pressure, you know that.” Phil comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder. My breathing stops. “When youknow, I’m ready to listen. Regardless of what the answer may be.”

“Phil,”

“Just think about it.” Phil gives me a sad smile and makes his way back toward the dining hall. My feet are rooted to the floor, and my heart is somewhere between cracked and shattered.

*

Over the next few days I have a lot of time to myself, considering it’s the weekend. 

I’m actively avoiding my friends, because there’s no way to be able to think about what Phil said when he’s right there in front of me. 

I spend most of my day in the Slytherin common room, writing essays for Potions and Divination, occasionally letting my mind wander to what it deems as more important things; Phil.

Me and Phil. Us, what we are, where we’re going, what I want. I know what I want, but I’ve never been the most selfless person, I don’t think. I was always really good at weaving my way through life using my charm to get the things I craved, not really thinking much about other people or factors in the process. But Phil is different. I genuinely care for him, and his feelings in this ordeal are affecting me more than I anticipated. Knowing he would be miserable is eating me alive.

I meant what I’d said, he deserves better than to date me in the shadows. He deserves someone who can flaunt him around, bragging about him in the way that someone should brag about Phil, not someone who can’t even tell people he’s gay, let alone walk around with a boy on his arm.

Phil told me he didn’t care, that if it meant getting to be with me it will all be worth it. I fear he’s biting off more than he can chew.

By Monday night, as I lay in bed staring at my ceiling, praying an asteroid will crash through the smooth beige concrete and obliterate me entirely, I hazily come to my conclusion.

I know what I want, and I think I’m ready to share it with him.


	29. Phil's POV

I don’t want to be pushy towards Dan, but the next few days feel like an eternity as I wait for him to think through everything we talked about. I feel antsy, and Louise has spent the whole week snapping at me for bouncing my knee under the table or else tapping my fingers incessantly on desks. She seems especially on edge; I think her and Ben may be arguing.

The fact that I hardly see Dan all week doesn’t make anything better. He flits around Lou and me, nervously perching on the bench next to us for meals before wandering away after hardly eating. I can tell he hasn’t fully sorted through things yet, and the last thing I want to do is make him feel rushed, but Merlin, he’s sort of leaving me hanging, isn’t he?

I’m grateful to not have to deal with Dodge at all. After the party, he pretty much moves on to the next boy who catches his eye. It’s some seventh year with ginger hair who plays Quidditch with Dodge, and by the way he reacts to Dodge’s blatant flirting, he’s not exactly interested.

I can’t say I miss that.

What I do miss is Dan. I wish he’d just hang around me, even if we didn’t talk. Just being around him makes me feel more at ease. Of course, I understand his hesitancy to do so before he’s had a chance to sort through what he’s feeling. I just miss him, is all.

He’s not at dinner tonight, and I wonder if he’s still stuck on that stupid Potions essay. I haven’t even started it yet, and I was too nervous to ask if he’d like to work on it with me. I’m shit at Potions.

Louise is in an especially sour temper when we head back to the Common Room. I nearly consider walking down by the Slytherin Common Room and just waiting there until Dan comes around, but I feel like that might make him uneasy, so I decide to just bear with Louise’s grumbling for the rest of the evening.

She actually ends up going to bed pretty early, so I’m left with just my book and Griswold for company. He’s curled up on my lap in a crescent, his tongue poking out of his mouth. It’s quiet around here tonight. I know there’s a Quidditch match tomorrow, so I assume most folks around here went to sleep early, especially the team.

I’m thinking about going to sleep myself when a younger Hufflepuff boy comes into the Common Room and looks to me.

“Hey, Lester, your friend is hanging around out in the corridor muttering to himself. You might wanna tell him to get out of here before a teacher docks points for being out so late.”

“What?” I say in response, but the kid just shrugs before joining a small group in the corner across from me.

I stand, Griswold meowing in annoyance as I push him gently from my lap.

I walk over to the entrance to the Common Room and slip out into the dark corridor beyond, squinting in the low light.

“Dan?” I ask, confused as I spot his lanky shadow pacing up and down the corridor.

“Phil! Oh, I – I was going to, well. Nice night, isn’t it?” His cheeks are pink, and I can’t help but smile a little at how flustered he is. It’s cute.

“What’re you doing out here so late?” I ask, stopping a few steps away from him and leaning against the stone wall. My eyes are starting to adjust to the light, and I can see he’s got on a long-sleeved striped sweater and jeans. It suits him.

“Um, well, I wanted to talk with you. Can we…do you want to go on a walk?”

I nod and fall into stride with him, “Let’s just be careful not to get caught, yeah? Lou will kill me if I lose any points.”

Dan smiles nervously at that, his eyes still downcast at his shoes. I want to guide his chin up with my fingers, but I don’t. I just lace my hands behind my back, peeking over at him from the corner of my eyes.

We walk for a solid ten minutes in silence, looping around past the dungeons and then up a back staircase that’s behind a large portrait of a troll. I stop him halfway up, grabbing his hand softly til he stops, and then dropping it. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but I think this is the safest place to talk without risk of getting caught by a patrolling teacher.

“Hang on, you said you wanted to talk, right?” I say. He stops in the stairwell, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves. He’s got long eyelashes, I can see that from the angle he’s at, a stair above me.

“Uh, well, you know I’ve been thinking about everything,” he starts, biting at his lip and darting his eyes up to mine before dropping them again.

“Yeah?” I say encouragingly. We’re nearly the same height with him on that higher step. I’ve got maybe a half inch or so on him still. I can smell his minty breath.

“Yeah.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He keeps fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and I smile a little bit.

“Care to share with the rest of u-“

I don’t get to finish as he leans forward, catching me off guard as he takes a step down so he’s directly in front of me and presses his mouth to mine. My stomach erupts in butterflies, all of my senses clouded by that mintyness.  
This is the first time Dan has kissed me, rather than me kissing him.

I must say, I’m quite a fan.

He’s got his chest just an inch from mine, the force of his body pushing me into the wall behind us. Daniel Howell being somewhat dominant? This is new.

One of his hands is caught on my cheek, the other hesitantly placed on my waist. I grab the loops of his jeans and pull him into me, closing the inch gap between us. He takes in a breath against my lips when I do this, and I smile a little against his mouth. Dan can be as dominant as he likes, but he isn’t fooling anyone, especially not me.

He’s kissing me quickly, hungrily, and I put my hand softly on the side of his cheek, slowing down our kiss, opening my mouth wider. He catches on, his mouth hot on mine, and he lets his hand slide down my side, past my hip, to lace his fingers with my free hand. My heart just about melts, and it occurs to me that we’ve never properly held hands before.

It takes everything in me to finally pull away from his mouth, his one hand still holding mine.

“I’m guessing this is a yes, then?” I say softly.

“Hm?” he replies, still trying to move his mouth back to mine. I keep him at bay, and he settles for sucking on my neck instead, which makes me shiver.

“You’ll go out with me?” I try again, my brain foggy from what his mouth is doing along my jaw. He pulls away, and I try for a moment to catch my breath, my heart still exploding under my ribs.

“Yeah, I will,” he replies, his eyes still on my mouth.

“Wow, don’t try and make me feel all fuzzy with your enthusiasm,” I say, and it’s only half a joke. I like Dan a lot. And I mean, a lot. But I want to be more to him than just a mouth for when he’s lonely, and I’m not completely convinced that he wants more than that.

He smiles a little, meeting my eyes with his and holding my gaze for the first time in who knows how long. He’s still got his hand on my cheek, and he runs his thumb slowly over my bottom lip. Bloody hell.

“I like you Phil. I mean, I really, really like you.”

I let out a shaky breath and smile, his thumb still tracing my mouth.

“That’s nice to hear,” I reply. I’m trying to toy with him, but my voice gives me away with its earnestness.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘I like you too, Dan, you’re so very handsome and clever,’” he says, and I laugh a little, which makes him smile wide, his dimples deep.

“I like you too, idiot,” I say, and he laughs, letting his head fall back. I’d pay to hear that laugh every day. He’s so beautiful.

“Well, now that we’re clear on that…” he’s leaning in to kiss me again when a light appears at the top of the staircase, and I hear a cat meow.

“Oh, blow me, is that Mrs. Norris?” Dan says with a groan. Sure enough, I can see two lamp-like eyes at the top of the staircase, and fast footsteps are approaching from somewhere down the hallway.

“Come on,” I say, dragging Dan down the steps by his hand, which I’ve still got in mine. We exit the stairwell, and I look back toward the dungeons. I can hear Filch descending the stairs behind us, so I break into a run, Dan laughing along beside me as we race toward the Common Rooms.

We make it down to the dungeon, both of us panting, and I finally let go of Dan’s hand, pushing my hair back away from my face.

“That certainly would have been hard to explain,” Dan says, trying to catch his breath.

I smile a little, looking over to him. His curls are splayed all over, a mess atop his head, and he’s grinning wide. 

I can’t help myself; I take a long stride toward him and pull him against me, my mouth finding his, a little more aggressively than I had intended, but he doesn’t exactly seem to mind. I feel his hand trail down my spine, his thumb hooking under the edge of my shirt.

He’s definitely gotten a little taller since school started, but I still have to stoop down to kiss him, and I can feel him raising up on his toes to reach my mouth better. He presses his hips into mine, and, Merlin, has he always been this hot? 

Yeah, now that I think about it, he has.

I wish I could take him back to the dormitories with me. Not to do anything more explicit (although I certainly wouldn’t say no to that), but simply so I could wake up tomorrow morning and find him next to me.

That’s definitely out of the question, though.

I suck on Dan’s bottom lip, and he moans softly against my mouth. If I’m not careful, I’m going to get hard right against his leg.

I pull away sharply, and he looks let down for a moment. I’m all too aware of the fact that we haven’t exactly talked about boundaries, or anything sex-related for that matter. The last thing I want is for something to happen that makes him feel like he’s got to do something with me this early on. Has he even ever been with a boy like that…like this?

He’s looking at me expectantly, and I realize I’ve been standing with my mouth half open for a solid ten seconds. My face heats up, and I clear my throat.

“We should probably get to sleep. Who knows if Filch will come down here to snoop around,” I finally get out, dropping my hands from him and taking a step back. He looks a little confused, but nods, toying with his shirt again.

“I’ll see you at breakfast?” he asks, and I nod, offering him a little smile.

“G’night, Dan,” I say, giving him one last gentle kiss on the mouth. He smiles at this and holds my face for a second in his palm.

“Goodnight, Phil,” he replies, and he starts down the hallway toward the Slytherin Common Room before turning back and calling: “Nice hickey, by the way!”


End file.
